


A China Princess

by nycgrl



Series: Gravem Temporum [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, But I'll use that tag anyways, Consensual Underage Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Father/Daughter Incest, Fluff and Smut, Implied Sexual Content, Incest, Mild Blood, Parent/Child Incest, Physical Abuse, Rape, Sexual Abuse, Shameless Smut, The age of consent is lower in the wizarding world, Underage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-04-18 18:35:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 25
Words: 49,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4716347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nycgrl/pseuds/nycgrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*Warning, as this chapter does contain physical abuse and rape*</p></blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Aurora, stop it. I’m not above putting you over my knee and giving you a spanking.” Her father’s grey eyes sweep over her irritably.  
  
She shoots him a glare. “You wouldn’t.”  
  
“Act like a child, and you warrant a child’s punishment. Just because I haven’t had to in ten years doesn’t mean I won’t.”  
  
She sets down her fork, resisting the urge to jab him with it. Because that, too, would be ‘childish’, as he says. Amusing.  
  
He meets her gaze levelly, and she sees he’s completely serious. He’s not as angry as she’s seen him before, though. Perhaps she can push him just a tad more.  
  
“I thought you always just called me a naughty girl and sent me to my room.”  
  
Her eyebrows are raised in challenge as he meets her gaze, annoyance burning in his icy eyes.  
  
“Don’t push your luck, Aurora.”  
  
He knows exactly what she’s doing, but it’s just so fun to irritate him that she can’t help herself. Narcissa always starts lecturing her when she gives her mother a hard time, and Draco will simply roll his eyes and ignore her. But Lucius is another story; often he’ll play along with her, at least until she begins to really push his buttons.  
  
“Make me.” Is her oh-so-intelligent response, unable to come up with a better comeback at the moment, but it’s certainly become too much.  
  
In an instant, she finds herself being dragged from her chair and shoved face-down over his desk, her hands pinned tightly behind her back in one of his.  
His other hand yanks at the fabric of her skirt before coming down in a hard blow on her arse, and she yelps and struggles. He simply glowers at her fury, delivering four more sharp slaps before he finally lets her go.  
Tears are welled in her eyes as she stumbles back several steps, staring at him in abject shock.  
  
He arches an eyebrow at her reaction. “What exactly did you expect? I warned you, did I not?”  
  
For once she has no reply whatsoever, and storms from the room, taking refuge in her bedroom.  
  
She’s not sure what’s more disconcerting- the fact that she, nearly an adult, managed to irritate her father to the point of warranting a spanking, for the first time in over a decade, no less, or the fact that it managed to make her feel in ways she most definitely shouldn’t.


	2. Chapter 2

She wakes the next morning in a bad mood. Her arse still feels bruised from the punishment she received, and she storms around, getting ready. She spends ten minutes searching vainly for her hairbrush, then grumpily twists her hair into a knot and gives up, heading down in search of breakfast.

Sinking delicately into a chair at the table with a wince, she swears her father smirks, but his face is mostly hidden behind a copy of the day’s Daily Prophet, so she can’t be sure. Her mother sends her a curious glance over her tea, but doesn’t comment, and Aurora instead turns to Draco, who seems oblivious to the entire exchange.

She ignores her father for most of the day, an easy task as she hasn’t seen him since she left breakfast.  
Her mother was out for most of the afternoon and dinner, and the evening meal is attended by only Aurora and Draco, who has only come in from Quidditch practice long enough to scarf down his food and leave again. On his way out he mumbles something about spending the night at the Zabini’s.

She finds a book to read in the manor’s library, wondering if her mother was coming home that night. Narcissa often took spontaneous trips or spent a few days with friends, or at least that’s what she said she was doing. They all accepted her weak excuses even though none of them believed her, but it wasn’t Aurora’s place to question, and her father obviously didn’t care.

Affairs were prominent within Pureblood society, expected even, as marriages were meant to ensure the continuation of the pure bloodlines, but they were marriages of convenience, not love. She knew her parents didn’t love each other. They tolerated each other, if anything. Might feel affection, but mainly for their sake of their children.  
At least Aurora knew her parents loved her and Draco, even if they didn’t each other.

Leaving the library, she passes the music conservatory and her father’s study, but pauses as she hears voices within the latter. There’s a woman’s higher tones mixed with her father’s lower one, and she creeps closer to the door to listen. Who on earth is he talking with? She doesn’t recognise the voice.

“Perfect, just like that.”

There’s a pause, then he speaks again. “Now bend your pretty little arse over my desk. And hold still.”

“Whatever you want, darling.” The woman speaks as Aurora’s eyes widen in shock.

“Don’t talk. It’s spoiling the image.” He mutters.

Aurora reaches for the doorknob, even knowing she should pretend she hasn’t heard and walk away. But with the sounds that are coming from the room and the fact that the voice definitely isn’t her mother’s— she wants to know.

Twisting the knob ever so slowly, she eases the door open a crack and peeks through, careful not to make noise and attract attention to herself. They were likely too preoccupied to notice, anyways.

In an instant, though, she’s stumbling away from the door, hand clamped over her mouth in shock and unable to comprehend what she’d seen. She’d known what he was doing, the noise the pair was making was enough to know quite clearly, but she didn’t understand.

The girl he has bent over his desk, her skirt shoved up around her waist, her face contorted in pleasure as he, still fully dressed, thrusts hard into her from behind, was her.

 

At first she thinks it was just a girl who looked similar, but upon further inspection, there is no doubt. It’s like staring into a mirror. The girl is her exact double, long platinum hair and pale skin, right down to the freckles across her nose and shoulders and the little white scar below her left collarbone. Only her voice betrays a different mind.

It makes sense now. Polyjuice Potion. That’s why her brush was nowhere to be found that morning. He’d taken it for the hair caught in it, to make the potion that would turn this girl— this prostitute— into an exact copy of her.

She shouldn’t watch this, it’s so wrong it’s making her head hurt, but she can’t seem to tear her gaze away. Watching her double orgasm at his hands shouldn’t turn her on as much as it does.

Turning away slightly, she waits until she again hears the low murmur of voices, then the pop of disapparation. Peering back into the room, she finds the woman in gone, and he’s sitting at the chair behind his desk, fingers steepled as he stares absently at the wall, a hint of a smile on his face.

Unsure what to do now, she turns to leave, but his voice stops her.

“Are you going to stand out there all day?”

Panic bubbles up inside her as she knows she’s been seen. It’s likely he’s known she was there the entire time.

“Do you really think I’m going to come near you right now?” She replies, cursing mentally as her voice wavers. He finally glances at her, smirking faintly, but he doesn’t speak.

She finally pushes the door open, glaring fiercely. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under.

“What is going on in your mind to think that was okay? And that I would be fine with it when I found out?”

She wants to slap the insufferable smirk off his face, as he stands, crossing to the bar. He pours what looks like Brandy into two small glasses, returning to the desk and sliding one across the polished wood surface towards her. She glares at it and he shrugs.

“Suit yourself.”

“Answer me.” She seethes in response, and he meets her gaze levelly.

“I’ve seen the way you look at me, when you think you won’t be noticed.” He responds calmly, but his voice is laced with accusation. As if this is her fault.

“I don’t know what you mean. You’re my father, for Merlin’s sake.”

“You say that as if that makes a difference.” He responds flippantly. “Admit it, you enjoyed watching.”

Her mouth opens but no words come out, and she resists the urge to cross her legs tightly. Instead she glares at him silently, and he gives her a knowing little smile.

“Can I have my hairbrush back?” She blurts, and he looks almost startled, but reaches to open a drawer in his desk and tosses the brush to her. She catches it clumsily, dropping it in her lap and covering it with her hands, as if to hide the visual proof of his crime.

If he hadn’t taken her brush, he hadn’t gotten her hair. If he hadn’t gotten her hair, he hadn’t made Polyjuice Potion with it. And if he hadn’t made Polyjuice Potion, he certainly hadn’t used it to turn a prostitute into her exact double. There. It never happened.

Rising awkwardly from her chair, she eyes him warily. “I’m going to pretend like this never happened. I’m blissfully unaware. If you want to shag prostitutes in your office I’ll stay far away, but don’t turn any of them into me again. You’ve left me in a rather awkward position and I’m not ready to address it right now.”

“Odd, I found the position rather gratifying.”

He’s smirking again, and this time she does throw something at him, which happens to be the hairbrush she’s holding. He catches it easily, tossing it onto the desktop, then rises from his chair, eyeing her like some prowling cat, ready to pounce should she try to run. She backs away until she reaches the wall but still he comes closer, hands braced on the wall on either side of her head.

She winces as her still bruised arse comes in contact with the wall, the memory making her scowl, and he frowns lightly.

“Such an ugly look. Do try and smile, darling. Glares are unbecoming on such a pretty face.”

Again she resists the urge to slap him for his obnoxious manner, but he’s far too close and the feelings she felt when he spanked her and while she was watching him earlier all came rushing back and she feels herself getting wet and her breathing is far too fast and she can’t help any of it, so she leans up and kisses him.

She catches him off guard, she can tell, but that shock almost instantly changes to smug self-satisfaction. He’s succeeded in flustering her enough to let her guard down, and even act upon— what? She doesn’t know what she’s even doing. She’s his child, for Merlin’s sake.

But he’s pinned her so she can’t get away, so she can barely move, even. Trapped against the wall, she can do nothing but submit to his kiss— but she won’t complain. Because damn the man can kiss, knowing just how to drive her crazy and leave her melting against him.

This is crazy, she thinks. So unbelievably inappropriate she can’t think straight. But then he’s nudging her thighs apart with his knee and forcing her to grind down against his leg and it feels so good that she can’t help it, and so she offers no complaint when he pulls up her skirt and slips a large hand between her legs.  
He finds her wet and more than ready for his ministrations, drawing a mewl from her lips as his fingertips rub her through the thin fabric of her underwear. His breathing is hot and harsh against her ear as he feels her.

“Such a wet little witch.” He murmurs, voice oozing self-satisfaction. “This shouldn’t turn you on, you know. When I spanked you laat night, it made you wet, didn’t it? You don’t need to answer, I know it did. I could see it on your face.”

“I’m not the one that used Polyjuice potion to turn a whore into a copy of my daughter, and then—“

“And then what? What did I do?” His voice is harsh and the thought of confronting him with what she’s seen makes her go bright red, clamping her mouth shut.

“You’re absolutely dripping, darling.” He murmurs, fingers still stroking slowly.

Tilting her head back, a quiet moan escapes her as he pushes the fabric aside, fingertips rubbing her clit for a moment before dipping inside her. Her fingers clutch at his shirt, grasping tightly to try to keep her footing as his strokes become harder and faster. He draws a loud cry from her as she climbs higher and higher and it just feels so incredibly good that before she knows what’s happening her body shudders and a scream escapes her lips as she comes hard.

For a while everything is white and spinning, but when she comes back to herself she realises his fingers are still stroking gently within her, easing her down from her high. She buries her face in his shirt, grasping the fabric with shaking hands, and he holds her close and strokes her hair with his free hand, murmuring encouragements to her as he soothes her trembling.  
Finally, he slowly removes his fingers from her, and she watches with a somewhat blank gaze as he licks them clean, a smirk on his face.  
She tastes herself on his tongue as he kisses her again, and she curls her fingers in the waist of his trousers, tugging weakly. He breaks away, staring intently down at her.

“You appear to have had a change of heart.”

She glares at him. If he wants to constantly remind her, fine. She’ll just walk away. But he’s already given her the most amazing orgasm of her life, and she fully intends to get another one. Payment, for what he had done earlier.  
He holds up his hands in surrender, evidently sensing her irritation, and returns to kissing her, and only when her head is spinning and eyes unfocussed does he finally pull away, stripping her of her clothing.

His hands roam her flushed skin, cupping her breasts and teasing the nipples before sliding down her waist and around the nape of her back. His mouth attacks her throat and collarbones, delivering teasing little nips before sucking hard and leaving pink marks that’ll bruise and later she’ll have to attempt to hide and cover up from her mother and older brother.  
His tight grip on her hips pushes her back against the wall again, the stone frigid against her skin, and she shivers as he drops to his knees in front of her, a hand sliding down the inside of her thigh to her knee, coaxing her to part them and balance her weight on one foot, then pulls her leg over his shoulder as he buries his face between her thighs.

A shocked moan pours from her lips as he laps at her, her legs beginning to tingle and abdomen prickling with another impending orgasm. The man certainly knows what he’s doing, knowing just the right places to kiss and suck to draw whimpering screams from her.  
In no time at all she’s coming apart again, her eyes tearing up at the intensity, barely able to stand.

He draws away, licking his lips with an almost animalistic glint in his eye that makes him look like a wolf ready to attack.

Losing her support, she slides down the wall to the floor, panting and wild-eyed, her platinum hair mussed and sticking to her flushed face. His gaze locks onto the motion of her bare chest rising and falling with her quick breaths, and he reaches down to pull her to her feet, his hand on her back guiding her to stumble over to his desk.

He sits her on the edge of the wooden desktop, pushing her legs apart and standing between them, even as she fights to keep them pressed together, trying to withstand the sharp tingling still pulsing through her. He presses his palm firmly between her thighs and she relaxes almost instantly, the pressure easing the stabbing tingles as she recovers from her orgasm.

She wraps her arms around his waist and lays her head against his chest, her eyes slipping shut, but he’s not finished with the sweet torture he’s inflicting on her body.  
His lips find hers again, and she kisses him desperately, clinging to him tightly, while his hands grasp her hips and pull her closer to the edge of the desk.  
She reaches between them and undoes his belt, fumbling with the closure of his trousers in her haste.  
His large hands cover hers, guiding her movements, and she slips her hands away, letting him do it himself, and reaches for the buttons of his shirt. Managing to undo them, she parts the fabric and admires his chest with her hands, his pale skin smooth, littered with a few old scars. He leans down to nuzzle his nose against hers, as she feels the head of his cock nudging her entrance.

“Do you want this?” He murmurs against her skin, his hot breath tickling the little hairs on the nape of her neck and sending a tremor down her spine. She nods, but he pulls back ever so slightly to meet her gaze. Steel grey, so much like hers.

“I need to hear you say it, Princess.”

His voice is lowered to a hoarse whisper, and she swallows the lump in her throat, leaning forward so her lips barely brush his.

“Yes.” She murmurs, and something in him snaps. In an instant, his hands are on her hips again in an iron, almost painful grip, and he shoves forward in one smooth thrust, sinking deep into her as she arches her back and clings tightly to him with a cry.

He gives her a moment to adjust and catch her breath, but she can tell he’s struggling to keep still, his hips twitching as he relishes being buried inside her. Laying her head against his chest again, she leans up.

“Move.” She murmurs, and he blows out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, pistoning his hips forward and driving deeper into her. She clutches his shoulders and he pulls her legs forward to wrap around his waist, beginning a pounding rhythm.

“Who do you belong to, little witch?” He demands breathlessly, watching her features intently as she struggles to break the haze and focus on his words. He thrusts hard enough that it hurts her and she arches up, digging her nails into his shoulder blades. He hisses at the sudden pain, slamming hard into her over and over.

“I _said,_ who do you belong to?” He demands again, and she gives a panting cry.

“You!” She cries, feeling yet a third orgasm building as he continues to push relentlessly. He’s thrusting against her sweet spot every time now, and when she orgasms again she can’t even scream, her voice whimpering off into nothing as she contracts hard around him, body stiffening, as pinpricks of pleasure explode inside her, curling her toes. She digs her nails into his back hard enough to draw blood, even through the fabric of his shirt.

He gives a yelp of pain, glaring at her as she must hit a nerve, and suddenly pulls out, dragging her from the desk and flipping her around, forcing her to bend at the waist, so she’s sprawled out across his desktop, panting and openly crying now from the intensity of her orgasms. He thrusts back into her and a cross between a sob and a scream tears from her, and he wraps an arm around her waist, holding her steady, as her feet don’t touch the floor from her position, as he resumes his rhythm. It’s too much, too much for her to take. She can barely feel her legs, her body spasming with sharp prickles through her nerves, and it’s burning— again. Merlin, she didn’t think she’d be able to take a fourth.

He seems determined to coax one more out of her, though, as he bends over her, reaching forward and pushing two fingers into her mouth to stifle some of the noise she was making.  
She instantly wraps her pale lips around the digits, sucking hard, and he groans loudly behind her, his thrusts speeding up and losing his rhythm as he looks for his own release now.

“One more, darling. Come for me.” He murmurs in her ear, and she grips the edge of the desk so hard her fingers turn white, then constricts around him tighter than ever as everything goes black for a moment.

He cries out behind her as he gives one, two, three more thrusts, then shudders as he comes hard, and the hot rush spills into her as her body trembles, still throbbing with orgasm.

She feels his fingers on her clit, massaging her ever so gently to ease her down from her high again, and she relaxes as the prickling ebbs away.  
Lifting her leg so he can turn her over without having to pull out of her, he leans down to kiss her slowly, as she brings her free leg up to wrap around his waist, trying to steady her breaths. He breaks away, startled, as she trembles against him, and he looks positively alarmed as she tries to stifle her sobs from before.

“Did I hurt you?” He asks, stroking her hair gently, but she shakes her head.

“N-no.” She hiccups, swiping at her eyes.

“I think I passed out for a minute.” She admits after a moment, and he smiles, his thumb stroking the nape of her neck.

“I love you.” He murmurs, lips brushing her temple, and she leans into him, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“I think— I love you too. More than I should.”

She feels his fingers winding through her hair for a moment, before a sudden noise from downstairs startles them both. He narrows his eyes towards the door for a moment, then a flick of his wrist later, she hears the door lock, and a charm soundproofs the room.  
He reluctantly withdraws from her, and she whimpers at the loss, but he bends to kiss her navel, then her clit, before rising and fumbling to straighten out his clothing.

Aurora sighs, laying her head back on the desk as she watches him hunt the room for their scattered clothing. He pauses again near the desk to smirk wistfully at her, taking in her naked form, covered with sweat, her legs spread wide as she is too tired to move.  
Some of his seed has begun to dribble down the insides of her thighs, and he reaches over, smearing the sticky liquid around over her skin, then pushes his fingers into her mouth. She can only suck weakly, but he seems satisfied, turning to finish hunting for any telltale clothing items.

Slowly, painfully, she sits up, wincing at the forming bruises she knows she’ll have in several hours. He deposits her clothing on the desk next to her, and helps her redress, pausing several times to give her long, lingering kisses.  
Only when they hear Narcissa and Draco talking down the corridor from the room do they reluctantly part, Aurora sauntering as best as she can from the room with all her aches and bruises. She hears him chuckle behind her, as she steps into the hall, closing the door behind her.


	3. Chapter 3

Narcissa and Draco are in the library, talking about something she doesn’t care to know, but they both look up as she makes her way in.

“Goodness, Aurora, what happened to you?” Her mother questions, taking in the way she’s limping and the already darkening bruises on her skin.

“I fell down the stairs.” She replies, mustering enough bitterness and irritation into her voice to pose a rather convincing lie, but as she glances at her older brother, she realises that while she may have satiated her mother’s curiosity, Draco isn’t fooled.

She sits patiently though her mother’s lecture on safety and how she _must_ be more careful in the future, nodding and agreeing with everything she says, but only to get her to shut up faster.

Draco is leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded, waiting for their mother to cease and desist and leave them alone.

When Narcissa finally leaves, Aurora makes to follow her from the room, but Draco extends an arm as she tries to pass, blocking her exit.

“Gonna tell me the truth? You may have convinced mother with your little story, but I’m not stupid, Aurora. You’re a dancer. No way in hell could you fall down the stairs, except unless you were pushed.”  
  
She glares up at him, waiting for him to back off, but when he simply arches an eyebrow down at her, she scoffs and looks away.

“What happened, Aurora?” He asks, softer this time, a hint of worry in his voice. “You look like someone’s been hitting you.”  
  
That catches her attention, and she’s quick to calm his fears of abuse.

“No, Draco. I’m fine. All these bruises were consensual.” She adds under her breath, and he looks startled.

“I can’t walk because I’ve just had quite literally the best sex of my life. But I thank you for your concern.” She tells him smugly, if only to see the emotions play across his face.

“You—what—I—who—“ He splutters, and she smirks.

“That, you will never know. But I’m in the best of hands.” She adds a bit softer, a wistful smile in her expression, before she ducks under his arm and wanders off down the hallway.  
  
  
  
When dinnertime comes around the next evening, Aurora accompanies her brother to the dining room, finding their parents already there. She sends Draco a glance and hopes he doesn’t notice the look their father gives her as they take their respective places at the table; Lucius at the head, Narcissa at his right, Draco on his left, and Aurora on Narcissa’s right.

She touches her neck and hopes the makeup and spells will successfully hide the marks on her skin, and Draco sends her a look across the table, a malicious smirk curling his pale lips as his gaze darts to their mother. Her eyes widen ever so slightly and she aims a kick at him under the table, to which he winces and sends her a glare, but keeps his mouth mercifully shut.  
  
Draco was so close to their mother, though, she knew he would eventually end up saying something to Narcissa. That’s how they operated; Draco was mummy’s boy, and Aurora was definitely daddy’s girl.

Even more so, now.

Narcissa has always wanted her to be the perfect Pureblood daughter, a frivolous girl who lives for parties and jewellery and fancy clothes. The girl her mother was when she was her age.

Draco’s life revolves around Quidditch and girls, and while she’s on the Slytherin Quidditch team at Hogwarts, she’s not nearly as obsessive over the game as her brother.

But their father, while quiet towards his wife, will engage his daughter in long debates about everything from books to politics, and she’d much rather spend her time with him.  
  
Narcissa is babbling on about something that Aurora ignores until she realises the attention is all turned to her, evidently waiting for a response.

“What?” She glances between her father and brother, looking for an indication of what her response should be.  
  
“Honestly, Aurora. Haven’t you been listening?” Her mother complains.  
  
“No.” She responds truthfully, and Lucius smirks into his wineglass and Draco stifles a snigger as their mother unleashes a tirade on her at her failure to pay attention.

She rolls her eyes, snagging the wine bottle and pouring far more into her glass than normal, and warrants an amused look from her father, but he doesn’t comment. She tunes out again, staring blankly at the wall and thinking of other things until her mother seems to lose her point, giving her a few biting, ending comments.

She snaps out of her thoughts as her mother sends her a pointed look, waiting for her response, and Aurora rises from her chair, taking her wine glass with her.

“Lovely chat, mother, but I have other things to worry about right now.” She leaves the table, grabbing the wine bottle as she saunters out, hearing her mother’s exasperation behind her.

“Lucius, you really must do something with that girl.” She complains, and Aurora smirks to herself. She has no doubts that he most certainly will.  
  
  
  
He finds her in the library half an hour later, half the bottle gone and her wineglass empty at her side, nose buried in a book.  
He sits in the armchair across from her and she ignores him for a full five minutes, then finally sighs, marking her page and setting the book on the side table.

“What?”

“Your mother is insisting I punish you for your disrespect.” He says, glancing towards the wine bottle. She rolls her eyes.

“What was she even going on about?”

“There’s to be a Ministry ball next Saturday.”

“Oh, so she wants to dress me up like a doll and parade me around in front of all the boys there to find me a husband, is that it?”

“Yes.” He replies simply, and she glares at him.

“Not interested.”

“Aurora, this is how our society works. You know this.”

“Considered, and disregarded.” She mutters, and he sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose.

“Aurora, please. Your mother means well.”

“Why does it matter so much what she says?” She demands. “You obviously don’t love her.”  
  
His eyes darken at the slight, irritation colouring his pale cheeks.

“Do not pretend you know more into it than you do, Aurora.”

“You think Draco and I are so oblivious.” She snaps. “But when mother says she’s going to visit friends, or taking her stupid spontaneous little trips, we’re not stupid, father. We know she’s cheating on you.”  
  
“As do I.” He replies, sitting back.  
  
“How can you sit by and let her do this, to our family?” She cries. “She’s had at least eight lovers in the last three years, father. For all our connections, Draco and I hear things too. How do you think it feels to hear from a classmate that your mother is sleeping with his father? That your own mother is a whore, and is wrecking her family?”  
  
“Hush, Aurora.” He snaps, pale eyes burning grey fire. “She is your mother, and you do need to respect her.”

He glares at her for a moment before sighing.

“Your mother and I did not marry for love, we married for wealth and politics. It’s what is expected of you. I did not love her then, and I do not love her now, but we feel affection for each other, even if it is mainly for you and Draco’s sakes.”  
  
“And you want that to be what happens to me?” She asks bitterly. “Stuck in a loveless, political marriage, so I can go out and have torrid affairs and drag our families name’s through the mud?”  
  
His eyes squeeze shut for a moment, as she glares at him tearfully, but he reaches forward and takes her hands.

“I do not wish for that to happen to you.” He says quietly. “But bear in mind you may not have much room for a choice.”  
  
She doesn’t want to have this conversation right now. Doesn’t want to have this conversation ever, but in the future it’ll be unavoidable. For now, though, she can still ignore it.  
  
“Are we going to talk about what happened the other night?” She asks quietly, and he looks up, grey eyes sparkling with amusement.

“What is there to talk about?”  
  
The corner of his mouth twitches with a repressed smirk, and she sighs. He’s enjoying this, the twat.

“Do you wish to continue?” He asks lazily. “If you do not, we can act as though it never happened. Your mother hasn’t the slightest indication. Your brother, however, is not as oblivious. He’s likely to figure it out eventually.”

“Draco already knows. Well, he doesn’t know who I was with, but he’s observant. If you keep looking at me like that whenever I’m in the same room, he’s going to find out.”

He smirks. “I can’t help it, love. But you didn’t answer my question.”

“If I want to stop?”

He nods slowly, observing her curiously, and she scoffs.

“You gave me the best orgasms I’ve ever had in my entire life. You think I’ll throw that away?”

His eyebrows raise in surprise, evidently having expected her to still be angry and to tell him off. She looks away, squirming slightly under his intense stare, feeling heat beginning to tingle in her abdomen.  
  
Then he’s smiling slightly, and she knows then from the look on his face, that even should Narcissa and Draco discover them and out their secret to the world, they’d still have each other, no matter what.

 


	4. Chapter 4

Over the next two weeks, she hardly sees him. He’s gone for several days on business, and then he’s at work all day, leaving before she’s awake and rarely coming home before she goes to bed.  
So she withstands her mother’s frenzied preparations for the Ministry Ball on Saturday, and spends more and more time with her older brother, both of them getting up in the morning and going out to the fields behind the manor, playing Quidditch with some friends from school who also live in Wiltshire, only returning to the manor to scarf down a meal, and then coming in only after it’s too dark to play anymore, and tumble in sunburnt and windswept, covered in sweat and grass.  
It annoys Narcissa to no end, but she does nothing to stop them, and Saturday morning, she fully intends to continue with the game, but Narcissa captures her after breakfast and drags her up to the master bedroom, depositing her in the bathroom to go about getting ready for the ball that evening. Aurora fails to see the necessity in spending eight hours getting ready for some party, but it becomes apparent that Narcissa intends to go all out, and there are already several witches there ready to do up their hair and paint their nails and do their makeup.  
  
Aurora manages to escape long enough to take a bath on her own, staying submerged in the water far longer than her mother wanted, but could do nothing about.  
Finally, she reluctantly allows the witches to curl her hair and pin it up, and paint her finger and toe nails a shade of pale pink that perfectly matches the gown they dress her up in.  
The gown is an A-line dress, the skirt rounded and full and edged with a matching lace trim that just sweeps the floor. The bodice is tight from the empire waistline and wraps into a sweetheart neckline, the thick straps made from a delicate chiffon and crossing over her back.

She sits motionless and expressionless as they paint her face with makeup and pin diamonds into her hair and put in earrings that match, then slide a diamond bracelet onto her wrist. Her mother brings in a necklace for her to wear, a thin silver chain with a single large diamond pendant. A present from her father, she tells her.  
The witches all gush over it and place it around her neck, tittering on and on over how beautiful she looks. Aurora finally manages to shoo them out and stands in front of the mirror after stepping into her shoes, a pair of peep-toe pumps in the same shade of pale pink.

They’d all said how beautiful she looked, and in a way, she supposes she does, but all she can feel is she looks like a doll. Her platinum hair pinned up in little curls, her skin porcelain except for the spots of pink blush on her cheeks, her grey eyes outlined with dark kohl and fringed with her long eyelashes, darkened and accentuated with makeup, to make them look bigger and give her a wide-eyed look, her lips painted with a pale lipstick.  
That was truly it, she looks like a china doll. A little porcelain thing dressed up for a little girl to play like she was going to a royal ball to meet her prince. Or at least, that’s what her mother wants.  
  
She wants to cry, but knows she can’t. Not with all this makeup. That night, she’ll cry herself to sleep afterwards. She’s going to have to find a ‘suitable Pureblood husband’ at this ball tonight, and the thought makes her sick.

  
She already has her prince, even if it is forbidden.  
  
  
Draco escorts her to the party, their parents evidently already having gone on ahead, and she clings tightly to his arm. He sends her a sad smile, knowing exactly why she’s so upset. They find their mother in the crowd, and Narcissa tuts when they approach. “Aurora, darling, you look lovely, but the ugly frown is unbecoming. Do try and smile, dear.”  
  
She’s instantly reminded of a similar phrase her father spoke to her before, and the thought makes her squirm, but she manages to force a fake smile for her mother’s sake. Narcissa instantly brightens and turns, and Aurora notices her father a few steps away, his back turned in conversation with another man she doesn’t recognise.

“Lucius, dear.” Her mother takes his arm, pulling him away from the conversation. “She looks so very beautiful now. I have no doubts we’ll find her a suitor here!” Narcissa prattles, and Aurora smooths out her skirt as her father turns to look at her.  
  
His eyes instantly widen as he freezes, his lips parting slightly as his gaze sweeps over her repeatedly.

“I— very suitable.” He manages to say to Narcissa, forcing a smile, and Narcissa beams, turning to fuss over the collar of Draco’s suit jacket. Lucius reaches for Aurora, steering her a few steps away from her mother and brother.

“Merlin, Aurora. You look beautiful.” He murmurs, and she manages a small smile.

“I don’t feel beautiful.” She replies sadly, and he tilts her chin up gently.

“Whyever not?”

“I feel sick.” She says quietly. “It’s disgusting. I’m nothing more than a china doll, dressed up and pushed into the spotlight to be sold in marriage to the highest bidder.”  
  
He looks shocked, then almost sick at her words. “Is that truly how you see it?”  
  
She nods, fighting back tears, and he wraps her in his arms. “Please believe me, Aurora, it’s not our intention to make you feel this way.”  
  
“I know it’s not yours.” She mutters, closing her eyes. “But mother doesn’t care.”  
  
“I care.” He reminds her softly, and she nods once, disentangling herself from his arms as her mother comes back over.  
  
  
She acts like the daughter her mother wants her to be at the party, drinking and dancing and flirting with any man that doesn’t have a ring on his finger, and a few who do, but on the inside, she wants to curl up in a ball and sob.  
  
When it’s mercifully over, Draco comes to collect her to take her home, and the second they set foot in the manor again, she’s crying her eyes out, hiding in her room and stripping out of the dress as soon as she can. She kicks her shoes across the room and yanks the pins from her hair, running a bath to wash all the traces of their makeup and powder from her skin, even taking polish remover to her nails to strip them of all the bloody pink. She can’t stand it anymore.  
  
When she finally climbs from the bath, dripping wet and exhausted, her eyes swollen from the crying but she doesn’t have any more tears, she towels off lightly, ignoring her dripping hair and storms naked into her bedroom— only to find her father waiting for her, sitting on the edge of her bed.  
He can’t help but think that’s she’s even more beautiful this way— she was pretty, all dressed up the way her mother wanted her to be, the same way Narcissa herself had been on their wedding day, but now, Aurora’s pale face is flushed from the heat of the bath and her eyes red from crying, a bit of black makeup smudged beneath one eye, her hair tangled and dripping wet, but she’s beautiful to him. Before she’d been faking it, but now, she was raw and genuine.  
  
She stares at him blankly for a moment, then walks over and climbs into his lap, pulling impatiently at his clothing. She’s far too exhausted and fed up to care, so she kisses him hard and loses her mind to his touch.

He soundproofs the room this time and doesn’t attempt to stifle her moans and screams, and as she shudders and trembles beneath him with her orgasm, she clutches him tight, both of them wrapped in each other’s embraces so tightly there’s no room between them, and in that moment, she feels complete. She’s never felt more loved than right now, and she knows she’ll never find that again with anyone else.

 

  
When she wakes in the morning, he’s gone. She hadn’t expected him to stay, but that doesn’t stop a small pang of disappointment. Rolling over, she finds a folded note on the nightstand, along with a pure white rose, and the sight makes her smile, as she pushes her messy hair from her face and sits up to read the note.  
  
_Aurora-_  
  
_I apologise for leaving so early, but I was called in to work. God, you looked so beautiful, I had to restrain myself from waking you up and taking you again and again, but such is life._  
_Your mother has been looking for you, I suggest you deal with whatever it is she needs so urgently to tell you this time sooner rather than later. Putting it off will not make her opinions go away, and one lecture is better than two, is it not?_  
  
_I love you,_  
  
_L_  
  
The first part of the note makes her smirk, but the second part makes her groan in frustration. At least it seems that he shares her opinion of her mother’s endless talking. Best to go find out what she wants this time.


	5. Chapter 5

Making her way downstairs, she finds her mother in the drawing room, having tea with a woman she doesn’t recognise.

“Ah, Aurora, there you are, dear.” Her mother greets her brightly, waving her over to the settee beside her. Aurora sinks next to her suspiciously, eyeing the dark haired woman across from them.

“This is Cressida Nott.” Her mother introduces the woman, who beams at her.

“The Notts are going to be staying with us for a bit. Maybe you know her daughter, Octavia?”

Aurora squints at her mother, then shrugs. “We’re in the same house.”

“Maybe you know my son, then?” Mrs. Nott asks, picking up her teacup. “Theodore?”

“He’s one of Draco’s friends.” She responds quietly, resisting the urge to voice what exactly she thinks of Theodore Nott.  
  
He was a pretentious, arrogant boy, with an obnoxious manner and what could only be described as a cruel streak. She’d witnessed him hexing a few second years for nothing more than bumping into him in the corridor.  
She hated him and his guts, but had to put up with him as he was a Chaser on the Slytherin Quidditch team. He didn’t think girls should be allowed on the House teams and constantly tried to sabotage her playing-- or at least he did until Draco caught on.  
Draco had been the Team Captain for three years running and instantly put a stop to that, with the threat that if he ever tried anything against his sister again, he’d ban him from the team and tell the Headmaster.  
  
That certainly shut Theodore up for a while, but he still took every possible opportunity to annoy her.  
  
Narcissa hands her a teacup, which Aurora sips tentatively, still watching the two suspiciously. The Notts have a manor in Sussex, they have no reason to need to need to stay with them.  
There’s a noise in the hallway and a house elf suddenly appears in the doorway, followed by a young man with tousled brown curls. Aurora nearly spits out her tea as he walks in, setting the cup down quickly as she coughs violently. The boy’s brown eyes sweep over her in irritation.  
  
“Look who we have here. The Slytherin team’s downfall.”  
  
_“Hush,_ Teddy.” Mrs. Nott hisses, and Aurora recovers enough to send him a poisonous glare. He sneers in response and seats himself on the settee next to his mother.  
  
Aurora sneers back as his dark gaze fixes on her again, and they glare at each other as their mothers titter on, oblivious. Aurora rises from the settee.

“I have someplace to be.” She mutters, and her mother looks up, surprised. “But Aurora, now that Theodore’s here, we can talk about your wedding.”

She freezes on her way to the door, turning slowly, a false smile on her face.

“I’m sorry. I must be hearing things. I thought you just said— wedding.”

Narcissa’s smile becomes slightly strained with confusion. “I did, dear.”  
  
Aurora stares blankly at her for a long moment, then a bubble of hysterical laughter escapes her. “You want me to marry _him?”_ She grins with an insane glint in her eye as she points at Theodore and laughs again. “You’re bloody delusional.”  
  
“Aurora, you already knew this. Stop it.” Narcissa hisses, and Aurora arches an eyebrow. “No I didn’t already know this, or you would’ve had to deal with a quite different reaction.”  
  
“Your father has already discussed this with you, Aurora.”  
  
She stills suddenly, eyeing her mother for a long moment, lips pressed together tightly. “No he hasn’t.” She replies quietly, then turns and storms from the room as her mother stares after her in confusion.  
  
  
  
  
  
Storming to the fireplace in the dining room, the nearest one she can find, she throws a much larger handful of powder than necessary into the fire and Floos to the Ministry of Magic.  
By all rules, she should have gone through the telephone box that makes up the visitor entrance, but she’s too angry to care, marching through the main hall with messy hair and tears beginning to stain her face.  
Several employees look as though they intend to question her, but she gives them all tearful glares and no one approaches her, as she stalks to the lift.  
  
She slams the button for the fifth floor and clutches her jumper tighter around her shoulders as the lift descends, by the time it reaches the fifth floor the air is absolutely frigid.  
Her footsteps are magnified as she walks down the hall, the corridors made entirely from white-streaked black marble, and amplifies the tiniest sound. She finds the office door labelled Lucius Malfoy and knocks sharply before twisting the doorknob and shoving it open.  
Her father is bent over his secretary, one arm braced on the desk as he reads what she’s working on over her shoulder, but they both look up as she steps in.  

“Aurora, what are you doing here—“ He cuts off as she stares up at him tearfully, looking alarmed.

“Leda, could you give us a moment?”

His secretary rises from her chair and slips from the room, sending Aurora a sympathetic smile as she passes.  
  
“Darling, what’s wrong?” He questions, sitting on the edge of his desk.  

“You knew.”  
  
He blinks at her. “Knew what?”  
  
“You knew, and you didn’t tell me. Why didn’t you tell me?” She cries, and he stares at her in confusion.   

“Mother was having tea with Cressida and Theodore Nott this morning.” She spits, forcing as much hate into saying his name as she can. “And informed me that he and I are to be _married.”_  
  
His eyes widen, and she can see the emotions flickering through his eyes. Shock, horror, and then blinding guilt.  
  
“You were supposed to tell me. Why wouldn’t you tell me?” She whispers, betrayed. “I will never marry him. I hate him.”  
  
“That’s a bit harsh, love.”  
  
“You don’t know him.” She snaps. “He makes my life at Hogwarts hell. He terrorizes me, he thinks that I shouldn’t be on the Quidditch team because I'm a girl and tried constantly to sabotage me, at least until Draco caught on and made him knock it off, and now he finds constant other ways to piss me off. He’s a bloody nightmare.”  
  
“Darling, it’s not—“ He cuts off as Aurora breaks down in sobs, reaching for her and gathering her in his embrace. “Shhh..” He strokes her hair and back until she’s hiccuping but cried herself out, then moves her back to look at her. “I’ll see what I can do.”  
  
She shakes her head in defeat. “It’s already been decided. There’s nothing you can do.”  
  
“I hate to see you cry, Princess.” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Let me see what I can figure out, alright?”  
  
She sniffles and nods, swiping at her eyes, and he turns and gives her a nudge towards his office door. “I have to let Leda back in, she’s in the middle of something. But give me a moment, and I’ll be right there, yeah?”  
  
She nods again, trudging over to his office, and curls up in the armchair before the fireplace, closing her eyes.  
  
His project must have taken longer than he thought, because it’s nearly an hour when that he shakes her awake. She blinks blearily up at him and rubs her eyes, lips flitting into a smile so openly adoring. From the way he’s sitting, she figures he must have been watching her for a while.

“What?” She questions hoarsely, and he smiles. “It’s lunchtime. Care to go out?”

“Sure.”

She sits up, brushing at her skirt, and he watches with a smile as she stands, straightening it out as she does.

He rises and takes her hand, leading her from the room.


	6. Chapter 6

Draco is gone the next afternoon and Narcissa is taking ‘a spontaneous weekend trip with friends to the south of France’, but her father is off work, so they have their lunch together on the back terrace.  
She’s been sending him sly glances all morning, but he’s been intentionally ignoring her, and she’s getting annoyed. Teasing him outright would just piss him off, though, so she slouches in her chair and munches on grapes while admiring the flowerbeds in the yard.  
He’s sending her a glance out of the corner of his eye and she throws a grape at him, snickering at the look he sends her.

“Stop.” He murmurs, and she pouts.

“Then entertain me.”

“Can you not sit still for ten minutes?”

She sulks and sits back, waiting until he glances away to throw another grape at him.

“Aurora..”

She hears it in his voice that she’s irritating him, and the thought excites her. He was sweet and loving last night, and while there's nothing wrong with that, she wants him riled up.  
She grins when he looks over, and the glint in his eyes says he’s catching on to what she wants. His fingers flex at his sides, and her gaze flickers to the movement, then she rises from her chair, stretching leisurely.  
  
She lets her shirt ride up to expose a sliver of porcelain skin before tugging it down, and she saunters over to the edge of the terrace to look out, wiggling her hips a bit more than necessary.  
Hearing the sharp intake of breath behind her, she glances back at him over her shoulder, fingers pulling at the hem of her skirt to ride it up the outside of her leg ever so slightly.  
She hears him rise from his chair and she instantly drops the hem and turns to face him, finding him much closer to her than she had thought he was. Stepping back in surprise, she eyes him mischievously, her gaze darting to the open door behind him.  
  
He catches the movement, eyes flashing, and she’s ensnared in his arms before she can blink, her back pressed against his chest.

“You _do_ want to play, don’t you. Little minx.” He breathes in her ear, and she squirms against him, making a show of fighting to get out of his arms. He’s far too strong for her, so she has to distract him.  
  
“I know how much you enjoy a good chase.” She whispers, tilting her head back to give him a teasing kiss over her shoulder, as she steps out of her heels to stand in stocking feet on the cold marble.  
  
“So, _chase me_.”

Twisting free, she sends him a wicked smirk before dashing into the house. His footsteps echo behind her, and as she rounds the corner, hands snatch at her shirt, pulling her around and pushing her into the wall, sending shivers down her spine at the sudden cold. His body presses against her from behind, the heat a shocking contrast, and she laughs breathlessly as he grinds against her back.

“Oh, come on. You won’t win _that_ easily..”

She manages to break free again and darts for the third floor, where she knows she can hide in the seemingly endless corridors and unused rooms. She ducks into a side corridor, and peers around the corner as she doesn’t hear any movement, then draws back slightly, trying to catch her breath. Turning, she makes to head down the corridor, but instantly collides with something hard.

“Boo.”

She yelps in shock.

“I— how— you were—“ She gasps, then glares up at him.

“Cheater.”

“I broke no established rules.” He murmurs, slowly moving forward until she’s trapped against the wall by his body.

“You said to chase you. And I did.”

His lips brush hers, and she clutches his shirt, then crashes her lips to his. Catching him off guard, she slips free yet again, darting off down the hall.

“No more apparating!” She calls over her shoulder, and hears him groan in frustration.  


He finally pounces on her in the corridor outside her bedroom, lifting her around the waist and carrying her into the room, while she kicks and flails, giggling madly.  
He lets go of her suddenly and she tumbles to the floor, but has to time to complain as he pins her to the floor on her stomach with his weight, his erection jabbing her insistently in the back.

She moans quietly at the feeling, and he releases her arms to yank her shirt over her head. Regaining the use of her arms, she braces her palms flat on the floor to use for leverage as she tries to wiggle out from under him, but he catches her by the hips and drags her back, delivering a smack to her arse for good measure as he strips her of her clothes with practised ease.  
He flips her over as he fumbles with his belt and the closure of his trousers with one hand, pinning her down with his free hand. She squirms under him, as he releases his cock, and he grabs her by the hips before sinking into her in one smooth thrust, as she whimpers and thrashes, continuing the charade of fighting him.

He groans as she struggles, cursing quietly under his breath, and she fights him even more, forcing him to grapple with her to keep her from lashing at him. She’s panting hard, and he ducks his head to suck one of her nipples into his mouth, and a whine escapes her lips, her back arching into his mouth as her fingers scrabble for purchase in the thick carpet.  
His eyes are nearly feral as he raises his head to meet her gaze, and his hips snap forward, thrusting into her so hard it scoots her back a bit, and she voices complaint as the carpet burns against her back.  
  
He huffs and sits back, kneeling on the floor, and hauls her up to straddle his thighs, pulling her back down on him, and she whimpers, laying her head on his shoulder as his hands on her hips push and pull her down on him.

It’s starting to burn low in her abdomen, and she sinks her teeth into his shoulder for good measure, just to keep up the game, and he yanks her head back by her hair, smirking darkly as she fights against the grip, her squirming just serving to push him deeper into her.

His breathing is ragged in his chest, and she slides her arms around him, digging her nails into his back for some form of purchase. A string of muttered curses escapes him, and she constricts around him, relishing the feeling of his hips and breath both stuttering at the movement.

His nose nuzzles against her throat and she instead tangles her fingers in his hair, wrapping the silky strands around her fingers and pulling.

The tightening is apparent as he pushes her closer to her edge, and she moans, the pleasure building and tightening and tingling until she can’t hold on anymore, and then she can’t breathe as she falls, the pleasure exploding inside her in throbbing, prickling tingles as her body tenses against him.

He curses as she tightens, pulling her flush against him and thrusting hard into her tensed body until he too falls, her name escaping his lips in broken syllables as he presses his nose into her hair, his seed spilling into her as his body shudders.  
  
They stay that way for a long moment, wrapped together and silent, both of them refusing to admit the existence of the Notts and the foreboding idea of her being married off.

 

 

Aurora fusses and fights her way through no less than eight confrontations with her mother, but in the end, is unsuccessful, and ends up sitting in grumpy silence as Theodore bloody Nott slides an engagement ring on her finger.

Her slight consolation comes from him looking about as happy as she does. Hopefully, they’ll leave each other to their own devices even after their wedding.

Their mothers insist on a kiss and Aurora gags internally, turning away, but Theodore rolls his eyes and grasps her around the nape of her neck, turning her face towards his and kissing her roughly.

She fights the urge to bite down on his lip and sits silently under him until he lets her go, and makes a slight face, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Lucius’s kisses make her tingle from head to toe and send fire coursing through her at the slightest touch. Theodore’s are cold and unfeeling, and leave her with a general sensation of clammy unpleasantness.

Speaking of her father, she glances to the side and sees him staring Theodore down, eyes blazing with anger and jealousy. It’s a slight consolation to know that he will always love her, even if Theodore never does.  
  
  
She escapes the room at the earliest possible opportunity, feeling sick, and seeks refuge in her father’s study. His eyes are still fiery as he looks her over with a frown, and she sighs, blinking back tears as she strips out of her clothing and crosses around the desk to stand before him.

“Please.” She whispers tearfully. “I just need to lose my mind for a while.”  
  
“Is that all I am to you?” He asks, irritation colouring his voice. “Your little escape outlet?”  
  
“Is that really such a bad thing?” She finally asks, and he looks up at her, jaw on edge.  
  
“You’re my ideal. My prince, my knight in shining armour. Without you I could never be happy again, but keep me by your side and I’d be the happiest girl alive.”

His lips are parted slightly in shock at this revelation, and she sniffles.

“If you want me to come crawling to you on my hands and knees to show you I truly mean it, I’ll do it. You know I don’t love him, I don’t want to marry him and I don’t want him to touch me. You’re the only one who can make me feel this way, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.”  
  
He takes her again and again that night, until they’re both completely spent, and when she’s sated and falling asleep, he takes her back to her room, tucking her into bed.

“Stay..” She murmurs as he turns to leave, and he stares down at her for a long moment before relenting, climbing under the covers with her and curling her body protectively against his.  
  
  
Sunlight filtering through grey silk curtains wakes her in the morning, and she sighs heavily, stretching her arms overhead. There’s a small tearing noise and a tug on her hand, and she looks up, startled, to find the stone in her engagement ring has caught on the sheet and torn it.

Muttering curses to herself, she yanks the ring off her finger and draws her hand back to throw it across the room, but a sudden restraint catches her wrist, pressure increasing on the bone until she drops the ring to the bed.

Relaxing as she recognises the familiar press of long fingers on her skin, she lets her arm drop, rolling over to snuggle against him. She’s surprised he’s still there, having expected him to leave after she fell asleep, like before, but he doesn’t seem to have any intentions of getting up anytime soon. She closes her eyes and lays her head back as his hand slips between her thighs, fingertips finding her already wet and ready for him.

“Such an eager little witch..” He murmurs, and she moans quietly in response, rolling her hips against his hand as he dips his fingers into her.

She whimpers and trembles beside him as his fingers coax a gentle morning orgasm out of her, and as she pants and shivers under the blankets, he reaches for her hand and slides the ring back onto her finger, curling her fingers to her palm so she can’t immediately jerk it back off.  
  
“I don’t believe you’ll want to have the ensuing conversation should you lose this.” He murmurs, and she gags quietly to show her displeasure.  
  
“He’s a horrible person.” She mutters, and he sighs, slipping his arms around her.

“He’s not so bad. He reminds me very much of your brother, actually.”

“Sure, but Draco has a quality that Nott sorely lacks.”

“What’s that?”

“Draco actually likes me.”

He chuckles.

“Oh, and Draco has a conscience.” She grumbles, and he arches an eyebrow at this.

“I’ve seen how he behaves, father. If you make me marry him, I have absolutely no doubts that he’ll hit me. And if I turn him down in bed, he’ll rape me anyways.”  
  
She feels his muscles tense at her words, and he eyes her silently for a long moment, then appears to decide not to address such a comment, instead rolling her over and pinning her beneath his body, eager for another release.


	7. Chapter 7

She sits stoically in a bedroom in the Nott’s Manor as witches flutter around her, painting her face and doing her hair and dressing her up. It’s like the Ministry ball all over again, except this time, she doesn’t dare think about the outcome. The door opens as she’s examining her reflection in the mirror after they’re done and have mercifully left her alone, but the face that appears in the reflection behind her is the absolute last person she wants to see right now.

“Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding?” She asks darkly, silently cursing the way her voice breaks.

“Consider it a risk I’m willing to take.” Theodore replies, an unsettling smirk on his face as he shoves his hands in the pockets of his trousers, looking her over. “Don’t you look nice.”

“After all I endured, I’d certainly hope you’d think so.” She mutters, sending a venomous looks towards the makeup and bottles still strewn across the countertops.  
  
“Don’t be a brat, Aurora. I won’t stand cheek from you.”  
  
“You clearly don’t know me very well.” She replies quietly. “It’s my personality. Haven’t you met the rest of my family?”

His jaw tightens, his eyes flashing at her words.

“I’ll let you off today, given we clearly don’t know each other all that well. But I hope, for your sake, that you’re a fast learner.”

Anger bubbles up inside her. “Are you threatening me?” She snaps, and he smirks.

“Not at all, darling. Consider it more a bit of advice. Believe me, you’d know if I was threatening you. Care to test that?”  
  
“Given we have a wedding to attend, I’d rather not right now.” She replies grumpily, turning back to her reflection. She nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels his hands skimming her waist, sending him an angry look through the glass, but he ignores her, feeling over her figure.

“Yes, you’ll do nicely…” He mutters, more to himself than anything, but his gaze moves up and fixes on the diamond pendant nestled between her breasts, and he turns her around to examine it. “Where’d you get this?”

“My father.” She replies through gritted teeth, and he shrugs, replacing it, but brushes his fingertips over her bare skin in lewd exploration as he does, pretending it’s accidental.

She knocks his hands away, sending him a disgusted look, and he chuckles, but she doesn’t miss the flash that goes through his eyes at her defiance.

“Playing hard to get? No matter, we’ll have plenty of time after the party for me to get to you.”

The thought makes her want to be sick, but he only smirks and turns to leave the room, pausing in the doorway to give her a once over with a lecherous glint in his dark eyes.

 

She clings tight to her father’s arm as he walks her down the aisle, reluctant to let go, but finally takes her place next to Theodore, refusing to look at him. They’ve altered the ceremony so neither of them have to speak, which, she supposes, was a good move on their part, since if the priest had asked if she ‘took Theodore Nott to be her lawfully wedded husband, to love and honour him, as long as you both shall live’, her answer would be a vehement ‘no’.  
  
She fights the urge to punch him when he kisses her, but the ring is already on her finger, the words said, and there’s no going back now, so she doubts it would have made a difference even if she had.  
  
The party seems to go on forever, and she thinks if one more person asks about their relationship she’s going to scream. Her eyes find her father in the crowd, and she sends him a pleading look, but he only shrugs apologetically, his gaze darting to Theodore, who sits beside her, and his eyes narrow slightly. Before Aurora can glance at him, she jumps as his hand lands on her knee, beginning to inch up her thigh.

She shoves his hand away, but he replaces it immediately, then jumps with a quiet yelp, quickly withdrawing his hand as Aurora innocently returns her fork to the table.  
  
When the party begins to wind down, well past midnight, her mind jumps to what’s to come, and after all her wishing that the party would end already, she instantly wishes it would go on forever, to spare her the torture of having to endure a wedding night with Theodore.  
Eventually though, it was time to leave, and Aurora reluctantly lets Theodore pull her from the room, to where their parents wait in the drawing room.

She lets her mother pin her in a crushing, tearful embrace, standing stoically until Narcissa pulls away to compose herself. She’s already beginning to disassociate, her eyes blank and staring, her face paled and body still, but when she spies Lucius enter the room, she reaches for him, hugging him tightly as he wraps her in his arms.

“Please..” She whispers, only loud enough for him to hear, and his embrace tightens ever so slightly.

“There’s a gift for you, in your trunk. Use it when you need to see me, okay?” He murmurs against her ear, and she nods ever so slightly.  
He finally lets her go.

“Take care, baby girl. I love you.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead, and then she’s being dragged away again by Theodore, and everything seems to go numb.

 

Theodore pulls her after him into a large bedroom on the fourth floor, what she assumes will be their rooms from now on.

“Why the bloody hell are you so eager?” She grumbles. “You always hated me, before.”

“Oh, I still do, darling.” He assures her. “But you’re my lawfully wedded wife now, and we have to get to work putting an heir in you.”

The bluntness of his words shock her, even though she knows she should have come to expect such a statement from him by now.

“Don’t fret, darling. It won’t hurt..” He paused, mulling over his words for a moment. “At least, as long as you don’t struggle.”

If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under by now, but he just smirks, amused by how riled up she’s getting.

“Come on, darling. Strip for me.”

“In your dreams, Nott.”

“Fine. I have no problem doing it for you.”

He produces a decorated little dagger, that looks more like a letter opener than a knife, but is evidently quite sharp as he snatches her by the skirt of her dress and keeps her from getting away, turning her to face him and placing the tip between her breasts.

“Don’t move, and I won’t cut you.” He warns, and she gives up and stands still as he drags the edge against the neckline of the dress, then grips it below the bodice and slices clean through the fabric all the way to the hem, turning her around to yank the dress from her body.

She steps out of her shoes as the movement nearly causes to fall over, and he leaves her in bra, underwear, and stockings, throwing the dress to the corner of the room, forgotten, then circles her slowly, gaze sweeping every inch of her body.  
  
“No one would ever tell you’re hiding such a body under your clothes.” He muses, and she sends him a glare over her shoulder.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

 “Well, since you dress like such a prude at school and everything.” He tries to explain casually, reaching out to remove the pins from her hair so the platinum curls tumble down her back, and she rolls her eyes.

“Excuse me for not dressing like a slut solely to please you.”  
  
His hand wraps in her hair and he yanks hard, snapping her head back, and he leans over her.

“Watch your mouth, love. I have no problem with shutting you up.”

“I’m sure.” She mutters when he lets go, and he suddenly backhands her across the cheek hard enough to send her sprawling to the floor.

He kneels beside her and slides a hand under her chin, tilting her face towards him.

“Are you learning yet, little witch?”

The nickname sends a spasm of pain through her. Her father’s nickname for her. Not wanting to fight with him right now, she simply nods, and he seems satisfied.

“Good. You’re a wild one, I’ve always known that. Malfoys tend to be.”

Stepping behind her, his arms are suddenly around her waist, picking her up easily and setting her on the edge of the bed, then shoving her thighs apart and standing between them.

“You know what to do, little witch. So do it.”

Her eyes climb his figure until she reaches his, and she send him a stoic pout.

“No, I don’t know what it is you want me to do.”

“Undress me.” His voice is quiet, threatening, and she shrugs.

“Okay. Just ask for it. When you say ‘you know what to do’, it could mean a variety of things I’d rather not explore.”

He tilts his head slightly as she unbuttons his shirt slowly, seeming curious.

“Like what?”

She shrugs again.

“I don’t know. You’re kind of the sadistic sort so I’d figure on you being into bloodplay and things like that.”

He snorts derisively.

“And you would know what that is, how..?”

  
His hands suddenly cover hers, stopping her, as he stares down at her with narrowed eyes. A spike of disgust shoots through her as he shoves the fabric of her underwear to the side and sinks two fingers into her, but his eyes narrow even further, probing for a moment.

“Ah.” He withdraws his hand.

“You’re not a virgin.”

She meets his gaze silently for a moment, and he sneers.

“You were deflowered before our wedding night?”

  
A painful cross between a stifled laugh and a snort escapes her.

“God, Theodore, this isn’t the Middle Ages. _Deflowered?_ If you thought I was going to be a blushing little virgin tonight, completely ignorant to what the word ‘sex’ even meant, you’re sorely mistaken.”  
  
“You’re a filthy little whore.”  
  
“Because I’ve had sex before? So what? You have.”  
  
“I’m not the one expected to be a virgin. I’m the experienced one.”  
  
“Gaining experience requires experimenting with someone, and you’ve got to have a first time at some point. If you have a problem with being with equally experienced girls, you took a few virginities yourself. Unless, of course, you’re gay.”  
  
He chokes for a moment, clearly not expecting that, then glowers furiously at her.

“Equally experienced? Who’ve you slept with, then?”  
  
She shrugs faintly, not meeting his eye, and he growls quietly, undoing the rest of his shirt himself, shoving her roughly back onto the bed and climbing up beside her.

On his hands and knees on the bed, he looks like a predator stalking her and tensed to strike, which, in a way, she supposes he is.  
A nearly feral grin crosses his face.

“Come on, Aurora. Don’t pretend you don’t want this. You’re turned on. I can smell it all the way over here.”

She squints faintly at him, and as she watches, his brown eyes flash gold for just a second, then it fades away, and understanding dawns.  
  
“You’re an Animagus.”  
  
His head tilts slightly to the side as his grin broadens.  
  
“Very good.”  
  
“A wolf?” She asks, and for a moment, she swears his canines shift, elongated and sharp, but when she blinks, they’re normal again.  
  
“Aren’t you one, darling?” He asks, his voice hoarse, and she glares at him, squeezing her legs shut.  
  
“I am..”  
  
“Then _change.”_  
  
She eyes him for a moment, then closes her eyes and visualises her animal form. She opens her eyes as Theodore gives a harsh laugh.

“You’re a bloody _cat._ Of course you are.”

He chuckles mirthlessly, then that gold glint comes into his eyes again, except this time it doesn’t go away, and before she knows what’s happening she’s facing a wolf four times her size, with golden eyes and glossy brown fur.  
  
_Shit._  
  
Leaping from the bed, she runs for her life, but he’s too big and catches her easily, sharp teeth enclosing around the nape of her neck and lifting her. She gives an irate hiss but he ignores it, nipping at her before he lets her go. A wolf playing with his prey before he devours it.

They chase and roughhouse until Aurora is exhausted, and on his final attack he tackles her from behind, both of them shifting back at the same time, naked and panting.

He’s hard against her back; apparently he gets off by the thrill of a chase, and he grinds against her, his hand sliding around to grip loosely at her throat.

His free hand snakes between her legs to rub at her clit, and she squeezes her eyes shut, imagining him to be anyone else. Wetness begins to pool between her thighs against her will at his attentions, and he slides a finger lower, then chuckles.

“You’re a good actress, but your body betrays you, little witch.”  
  
Two fingers dip into her, beginning a maddening rhythm of strokes, his thumb massaging her clit in steady circles, and even though the thought disgusts her, he knows what he’s doing. It feels good, even though she doesn’t want it to.  
She bucks beneath him, her hips beginning to follow the movement of his hand, and his teeth nip at the nape of her neck, where there are already red marks from when he’d bitten her in their Animagus forms.  
  
She swallows hard, feeling little prickles beginning to build in her abdomen, and he increases the speed on the circles he’s drawing over her clit, his fingers moving faster, and her whole body seems to numb for a moment, then, before she knows what she’s doing, a drawn-out cry is escaping her lips as she comes.  
  
His fingers continue to stroke until she relaxes, then he slides them from her, turning her onto her back with one hand as his tongue darts out to slide over his fingers, licking them clean. He hums as he does, his eyes glinting, and as she gets her breath back, the reality of what’s just happened hits her.

She’s just orgasmed.

At Theodore Nott’s hands.

The thought is absolutely disgusting.  
  
The look he gives her is so full of smug self-satisfaction that she wants to slap him, and this time she does. He glowers at her, rubbing his cheek.

“Some thanks that is..” He grumbles, and she glares daggers at him.

“I bloody hate you.”

“Well, we’ve already established that, love. I hate you too. But you know, hate sex is all the more fun.”  


With that, he hooks an arm under her knee and pulls it up, sinking his cock into her in one smooth thrust. She voices loud complaint, but he’s past caring, already thrusting hard and fast into her. She rolls her head back so she doesn’t have to look at his face, a tear forming in the corner of her eye and sliding down her cheek, then disappearing into the carpet.  
He ducks his head to suck one of her nipples into his mouth, but now that she can see him and remembers who’s touching her, she can’t feel any pleasure at the act. Can’t feel much of anything at all, other than numb, and she hopes it’ll be over soon.

She can feel his body beginning to stiffen, but the look in his dark eyes is so painfully intense that she knows she has to do something, and so she whines and moans and fakes her orgasm, hoping such a theatrical performance would be enough to convince him.

Satisfied that she’s had her release, his thrusts begin to lose their rhythm, and she closes her eyes, fighting the roil of nausea that bubbles up when he comes, hot, sticky seed spilling into her.  
  
She wanted to forget, and for a while, she had, imagining it was Lucius touching her, but now she felt dirty, violated, and allover sick. Maybe she would end up pregnant from this and he’d leave her alone for a while.

No, after a moment of hopeful pondering, she realises, that with all the sex she’d had with Lucius, they’d never used any form of protection, and she hadn’t ended up pregnant from that. She’d have to endure many more nights with Theodore before she’d be able to claim that as an excuse.  
  
Evidently Theodore is the loving type after sex, as he gathers her up carefully and helps her to bed, climbing up after her and curling his body against hers from behind, tucking the blankets in around them.

She waits until his breathing is deeper and even with sleep before she cries.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Warning, as this chapter does contain physical abuse and rape*

She wakes the next morning before he does, and tries to disentangle herself from his arms, but he mutters in his sleep and clutches her closer to him. It’s ironically amusing, and she wonders how he’d react if she told him about his behaviour when he woke.

Reconsidering that as not being the best of ideas, she reaches behind her and pokes him in the ribs a few times until she gets movement out of him. The fourth time, he jerks awake, and she immediately withdraws her hand, laying unmoving until he can get a sense of his surroundings.

After a moment, he stretches languidly, then his fingertips begin to trace over her shoulders and down her arm. Evidently he believes her to be still asleep, and she lies still, curious as to what he’ll do.

His hands begin a wider exploration of her body, sliding down her waist to her stomach, then hooking both under her arms to cup her breasts in his hands.

She bears his exploration in silence, letting him do what he pleased. He hadn’t shown any indication of wanting sex again, thank Merlin, just curiosity getting the better of him, and he knew if she was asleep, she wouldn’t lash out at him.

Finally fed up, she tenses in a stretch, then rolls onto her stomach, managing to escape his wandering hands.

“Morning..” His voice is husky with sleep, and she pretends to blink sleepily up at him.

“Already?” She mutters, and he chuckles.

“Unfortunately.”

He gets up, leaving her alone in bed, and disappears into the closet. She hears him humming faintly, and frowns. He’s a total arse in the heat of the argument, and especially when around others, but he’s being almost nice to her. It’s odd.

Maybe, just maybe, Theodore Nott isn’t as bad a person as she originally thought him to be.  
  
She suffers though an incredibly awkward breakfast with the rest of his family, which she supposes will be the norm from now on. Great. His mother is sending her an overly bright smile, his father hiding behind the morning’s edition of The Daily Prophet, while his younger sister sniggers and sends them an ‘I know what you were doing last night’ look. She glances at him to find him glaring at his sister with a warning look, and the girl simply sticks her tongue out at him, a wicked grin on her face.

Aurora rolls her eyes and sighs, already missing the morning meal with her own family.

She’s only vaguely listening to his mother’s chatter, Merlin, she’s as bad as Narcissa, but then she says something that catches her attention— honeymoon.

In the suddenness of the wedding and her surrounding hostility towards the idea in general, the thought of a honeymoon hasn’t crossed her mind. Isn’t that what the wedding night is for?  
She listens then, trying to figure out some context to the comment, and discovers, to her annoyance, that they are in fact having one, and they’ll be leaving after the meal. Lovely.  
  
She follows Theodore after the meal back to their bedroom, where he seems to be checking on the status of two packed trunks, one of which she recognised as hers.

“Where are we going?” She asks quietly, and he glances up.

“Weren’t you listening at breakfast?”

“No.” She replies, and he pauses to send her a smirk.

“I didn’t think I actually needed to listen. Your mother is just like mine.”

He laughs as he closes the lid of the trunk.

“Having met your mother, I’m apt to agree with that.”

She nods, and he sighs, straightening.

“France.” He says in response to her earlier question, and she arches an eyebrow.

“Why France?”

“We’ve got a house in Marseille.”

“Oh.” Her response is quiet, not sure how to respond to that, but he just sends her a wry look and offers her his arm, and she grips him tightly as they apparate.  
  
  
The second afternoon, she’s digging through her trunk, looking for a clean dress to wear, and pauses as she uncovers a package wrapped in white paper, the size of a photo frame.

Curious, she unwraps it, to find a small mirror, the edges gilded. What in Merlin’s name..

She holds it up, seeing nothing but her reflection in it, and sighs. What is she supposed to do with this?  
  
Gazing at it for a moment more, she startles as she realises the reflection is no longer hers, and the mirror slips from her fingers in surprise.

“Father?” She gasps, scrambling to grab it from the trunk again.

“Doing alright, love?”

She squints at it, confused, then realises this must be one of those two-way mirrors. She glances over her shoulder to make sure Theodore hasn’t slipped in, then shrugs sadly.

“I miss you.”

“I miss you too, love.”

“I don’t want this to be the rest of my life.” She murmurs. “I can’t live anymore. He’s so strict on what I can and cannot say and how I have to act. He dictates how I walk down the hallway, for Merlin’s sake!”

“Such is life, sometimes, babygirl. You’re not at home any more. Society’s rather different when you’re married and living elsewhere.”  
  
“He doesn’t own me!”  
  
He’s silent for a long moment, and she checks over her shoulder again. Theodore has turned out to have a habit of creeping up behind her silently and scaring the hell out of her. Must be the Animagus instincts. She doesn’t want to know what he’d do if he heard her.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Aurora winces as Theodore pushes the door open with a bang, and glares at him from her perch on the windowseat. Lately, he’s left her to her own devices, only bothering her when he wants sex, or, as he so bluntly puts it, ‘work on putting an heir in her belly’. If she tries to deny him, he slaps her around until he’s ‘tamed her’, meaning she's in too much pain to put up a fight any longer.

The only consolation she takes from that is the indication that once she’s pregnant, he’ll leave her alone. At least until after the child is born.  
  
She sighs heavily, rising from the bench and unbuttoning her nightgown. For some reason, he likes to have her naked, to have every inch of her skin bared to him, while he often remains fully dressed.

He always insists on waiting to come until after she does, though, no doubt a deep-seated teaching that a gentleman never comes before his lady. Well, he’s certainly no gentleman, and she couldn’t care less, but dealing with an injured ego would be worse, so she continues to fake her orgasms and he remains satisfied.  
  
Grumbling to herself, she discards the last of her clothing and climbs up onto the bed, hoping he’ll be quick about it, but he watches her with pensive eyes for a long moment.

“My parents are getting impatient.” He comments casually, and she arches an eyebrow, waiting for him to elaborate.

“You’re not pregnant yet.” He obliges her, and she looks away.

“It’s not something I can control. It’ll happen when it happens.”

His eyes flash.

 _“Or,_ you’re taking something afterwards. Something to prevent it.”

“Why the hell would I do that?” She mutters, and his hand slides under her chin, forcing her gaze up to his. “Would you?”

Again, he’d leave her alone if she was pregnant. Why prolong her suffering?  
  
“Trust me, I wouldn’t bother.” She mumbles, and he seems somewhat satisfied with that response, flipping her onto her stomach and taking what he wants from her body.  
  
  
Two weeks later the announcement comes that Draco is to marry Astoria Greengrass, and they’re to leave for the Malfoy Manor soon to stay for the wedding. She’s on top of the world for those next two days, even going so far as to play along when Theodore wants sex, rather than passively tolerating it, and shocks herself by almost enjoying it. She still hates him and his touch still makes her feel dirty, but she’s gone so long without a proper orgasm that she relaxes and lets him work her up to one.

Her reaction seems to startle him by the intensity, and there’s just something _different_ about her moans, so he buries his face between her thighs, using his tongue to draw another real orgasm out of her.

She can’t help the feeling that she’s cheating, but then takes a moment to think on that and realises how utterly ridiculous that is. Lucius isn’t hers, not really. Theodore is her lawfully wedded husband, and she has every right to enjoy sex with him if she wants.  
  
When she’s laid back and panting on the sheets, her whole body feeling the pleasant post-orgasm ache, he climbs back over her and kisses her, and for the first time, his kisses don’t make her feel cold and dirty. They still pale in comparison to Lucius’s kisses, but for the first time since before the wedding, she wonders how bad this could really be. So she resolves to forget, just for the night, and reciprocate.

For magical couples to conceive, there had to be some bond between the two, even if they weren’t actually in love. He’d accused her of using potions or spells to prevent it, but they both knew that their indifference and anger towards each other was what was truly causing it.  
  
She loses count of the times they make love that night, and when they finally collapse exhausted, he holds her in his arms until she sleeps, absently stroking her hair.  


She dreams of Lucius that night, of his fingers deep inside her and his mouth between her thighs, and she squirms and moans until she wakes, eyes flying open to discover her pleasure is so very real, and barely manages to stop a moan of his name from slipping past her lips, and instead she tangles her fingers in Theodore’s brown curls and tugs, arching her back. That would have been a sticky situation she’d prefer to avoid.

He draws another orgasm from her tired body, but she’s more indifferent towards his attentions today. She’s not sure what came over her last night, maybe just losing herself to the moment and wanting to forget, but his kisses don’t make her feel good, don’t make her feel anything, really.  
  
Upon thinking about it, she realises she can have sex with him for fun, because even though she doesn’t want to admit it, he knows what he’s doing, and she can bear his children, but she does not and will not ever love him.  
  
A knock on the door startles them both, and Theodore glances up from where he’s sprawled out beside her, his head resting on her bare chest. She hears him sigh, and he turns his head slightly to flick his tongue over her nipple, and she whimpers, so he moves and sucks it into his mouth just to hear the noises she makes, a chuckle rumbling deep in his chest.  
He lets go and leans up to give her a deeply passionate kiss, his tongue dipping into her mouth and flicking against hers as his fingers stroke the lightest of touches between her legs, and she chokes on a whine, hips bucking forwards. He grins and sinks two fingers into her as he raises his head.

“Come in.” He calls lazily over his shoulder, reaching down with his free hand to twist at the sheet and pull it over her to afford her a bit of modesty.  
  
Aurora blushes scarlet as his mother walks in, pausing in embarrassment at their state of undress, but then a wry look comes over her face and she glances to Theodore.

“Please be ready to leave in an hour, we’re to arrive in time for luncheon.”

Both Theodore and Aurora turn to glance at the clock, surprised to see they’ve long missed breakfast, no wonder his mother was suspicious. Theodore gives her a quick smirk as he glances back to his mother, but she misses his reply because his fingers have suddenly begun to stroke and move inside her and his thumb is pressing against her clit in maddening little circles, and she has to focus on not making a sound while his mother is standing _right there_.

She slips a hand beneath the sheet and grasps his wrist, trying to make him stop, but it only serves to make him work his fingers faster.

Cressida seems satisfied at getting her point across by then, and leaves the room, thankfully, as Aurora doesn’t think she can hold back her orgasm for much longer and comes the _second_ the door closes, her fingers tightening around his wrist as she muffles a scream into a pillow.  
  
“Merlin, you’re pretty when you do that.” He mutters, slowly extracting his fingers from her, and she isn’t sure if he intends it as a complement or an insult or both, so she scowls at him and pushes back the sheet, climbing from the bed on stiff legs. His fingers catch her wrist.

“Where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you yet.”

There it is, the comment that confirms that she’s nothing more than a toy to him.

“Theodore, come on. We have to get ready to leave.”

“Your parents can wait a few more minutes.” He complains, but she’s already twisting her wrist free and escaping into the bathroom, clothes clutched to her chest.  


Leaving him turned on but pissed off was a bad idea, it appears, as he stalks into the bathroom a moment later and shoves her over the counter, thrusting roughly into her from behind. So much for him changing his attitude towards her. He’s sweet and loving, as long as she doesn’t deny him. But he's back to roughhousing her the second she shows any hint of defiance.

Lovely.

Twisting, she tries to get away, but he slaps her, hard, and it stuns her enough for him to force her back down.

So she grasps the edge of the counter so tightly her fingers turn white and she cries, but that evidently annoys him, as one hand leaves its iron grip on her hips and covers her mouth, his fingers digging into her skin painfully and yanking her head back.  
It seems to last forever but finally he reaches his edge, and he releases her a second later with a disgusted glance at her through the mirror as she tumbles to the floor, huddled against the cupboards.

“Hurry up.” He snaps as he stalks for the shower, sending her a glare as he does.  
  
She has to resort to covering the marks on her skin with spells as no amount of makeup will hide them, and she wants a bath, but there isn’t time, so she dresses quickly and sits brushing the tangles from her hair when he comes back.

His hand slides beneath her chin and tilts her face up, his dark eyes examining her face for any indications of bruises from his rough treatment towards her. Evidently satisfied, he lets her go, turning away.

“Come on.”

  
She follows meekly after him a few steps behind, not daring to get too close to him, and Cressida’s sharp gaze sweeps over them as her son strides into the room, his new wife trailing behind him, every now and then sending him a terrified glance, and her eyebrows pinch, but she doesn’t comment.

 They arrive at the Malfoy Manor without incident, and the sight of the familiar façade through the trees sends an overwhelming sense of comfort through her.

Narcissa appears to be the only one at home when they arrive, showing them their rooms and then entertaining them in the drawing room.

Aurora manages to slip away and heads immediately for the second floor, finding Lucius’s study. A quick knock receives an almost exasperated call of entry, and she pushes open the door. Her father is slouched in the chair behind his desk, hand over his face.  
  
“Father..”  
  
It appears he was expecting Narcissa, and at her words, his eyes fly open.

“Aurora?” He asks quietly, almost unbelieving, and she gives a quiet sob, racing for him. He’s out of his chair in an instant and then she’s wrapped in his arms, delighting in the familiar warmth and comfort of his body as she cries.

She feels herself being lifted as he sets her on the edge of his desk, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist and cling to him tighter.

“Shh. It’s alright, my love.” He murmurs, stroking her hair, but she’s trembling too hard, with fear or relief she knows not, but she’s just so terrified and she’s missed him so much that then she’s kissing him, and he cups her face and deepens their kiss, his tongue sliding against hers in a familiar, comforting dance. There’s knock at the door, startling them both, but a house-elf peeks in, meekly announcing that luncheon was served.

She doesn’t want to go, but he takes her hand and leads her to the dining room anyways, giving her a little nudge towards her chair.

Reluctantly slipping into her place at Theodore’s side, she’s across from Draco, who grins at her in greeting, but the look is quickly wiped from his face when he sees the recent tear tracks on her cheeks, and observes the way she flinches away from Theodore when he moves.

His pale eyes are narrowed the next time she looks at him, and her lips press together tightly, as she sees from the look on his face that he knows.  


After luncheon, Draco comes over to where she’s standing silently at Theodore’s side as he talks to Astoria, his hand sliding across the nape of her back as he sends her a concerned glance, especially when she flinches at the touch. She refuses to look at him, though, not when he can read her like a book. Theodore’s too near.

Draco waits patiently for him to finish his conversation, then drags Theodore off outside saying something about needing to catch up on Quidditch practice.

Aurora wants to cry with relief, but his parents are still in the room, so she bites her lips so hard it bleeds but keeps her emotions to herself, and Astoria gives her a curious look. Aurora doesn’t want to talk to her about it, knowing Astoria’s older sister Daphne was Theodore’s girlfriend at Hogwarts. Probably still is, now that she thinks about it.

She manages to give Astoria a pained smile, her cheek still burning and sore from where he hit her that morning, and Astoria sighs quietly, taking her arm and pulling her from the dining room. She links arms with her casually, but her words carry more weight.  
  
“I’m sorry.” She murmurs. “I know how terrible Theodore can be.”  
  
Aurora sends her a frown, and Astoria sighs.

“He used to hit my sister, you know.”  
  
“No, I didn’t know.” Aurora murmurs, glancing around to make sure they’re truly alone in the hallway. “Did he used to rape your sister, too?”  
  
Astoria’s green eyes widen slightly, but then they go devoid of emotion as she sighs.  
  
“That, I know not. If he did, Daphne never said, but I doubt she’d tell me something of that sort. I only knew he hit her because we shared a bedroom, and I saw the marks on her body.”  
  
Aurora sees the beginning of what looks like fear beginning to settle into Astoria’s pale features, and the girl sends a nervous glance at the silver ring on her finger.  
  
“Astoria, Draco would never.” Aurora tells her firmly. “He’s a good man, and he would never raise a hand to you.”  
  
Astoria still seems apprehensive.

“What if I denied him tomorrow night? Would he force me?”  
  
“No, I don’t believe he would.”  
  
  
There’s footsteps in the hall behind them and Aurora instantly tenses, but it’s her father, his presence relaxing her.

“Miss Astoria, might I steal my daughter away from you for a moment?” He asks, being teasingly casual near others, but Aurora can see in his eyes that he’s concerned. Very.

Astoria makes a show of letting go of Aurora’s arm.

“If you must.” She replies just as breezily, but she, too, sends Aurora a glance.

Aurora manages a small smile, missing her father’s reply as he settles his hand on her waist, guiding her away towards the staircase.  


He’s silent until they’re secluded in his office, which he locks and soundproofs, and finally turns to her.

“You’re using magic to cover your body. Why?”

She blinks rapidly for a moment, not expecting such a question, but then she glances away.

“Do you really need me to answer that?”

“By not answering my question, you just did.” He murmurs, lifting a hand. She flinches, but he simply passes it over her face, and she feels the magic ripple away, revealing the bruises.

Both of her cheekbones bear handprint-shaped bruises, there’s five little fingertip shaped marks forming on one cheek, from where he gripped his hand tight over her mouth that morning, and a crescent-shaped bruise rings her left eye.

She presses her lips together tightly as he drops his hand to his side in shock, avoiding his gaze, and he steps back to sit on the edge of his desk, hand over his mouth as he stares at her for a long moment.

He rubs the bridge of his nose, before finally leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees and buries his face in his hands.

“Are there more?” He finally asks, and she reluctantly removes her dress and stockings, leaving her in her underwear, the bruises on her skin exposed to him.

He looks up finally and stares at her speechless, reaching towards her. She automatically steps forward to take his hands, and he’s silent for a long time, staring at the marks on her body.  
  
“I didn’t listen.” He murmurs, letting go of her hands and standing, turning his back to her as he paces the floor behind his desk. “You were right, and I didn’t listen.”  
  
“You did what you thought was best for me.” She whispers. “Please don’t blame yourself. It’s my fault. I made him do this to me.”  
  
He looks back at her, eyebrow arched. “You made him do this to you.”  
  
She nods, avoiding his gaze.

“I’ve denied him his right to touch his wife, and I’ve acted out. I deserve whatever punishment he gives for my behaviour.”  
  
His mouth is open slightly as he stares hard at her.

“Three weeks ago you were insisting he didn’t own you, and you were still your own person. What in Merlin’s name has he done to you to turn you into some submissive, tortured little thing? You do not deserve anything he’s done to you. No man holds the right to beat his wife.”  
  
“When you marry, a wife promises to submit to her husband. I’ve defied him, not submitted, and therefore he holds the right to correct my behaviour in any way he sees fit.” She mutters, and he crosses to her quickly, grasping her chin and forcing her gaze to his.  
  
“Aurora, can you even hear yourself?” He questions harshly. “You are not the one to be blamed, here.”  
  
She smiles faintly, sadly.

“Don’t worry, father. This is just what he's taught me, how he wants me to think. I can still think for myself. I’ve just learned that it hurts more than it’s worth to voice my opinions. As long as I keep my head down and my mouth shut, and let him do whatever he wants to me, I’m okay.”  
  
“Let him do whatever he wants to you.” He comments, but she can hear the question in his voice, and she gives him a wry expression.

“He wants a child.”  
  
He lets go of her chin with a disgusted sound. “So he rapes you.”  
  
Her laugh holds no humour.

 

“Did you really think he wouldn’t?”


	9. Chapter 9

Theodore is gone that night and she doesn’t care to know where he’s gone, he’s likely with Daphne anyways, Astoria’s older sister having arrived not long after they did. But if he’s with Daphne, he’s not raping her and he’s leaving her alone, so she wanders the manor, finding comfort in the familiar walls and rooms. Eventually she finds herself in the library, her favourite room while she still lived here, and lights a few lamps and the fire, curling up in an armchair before the fireplace and reading.

Engrossed in the book, it takes her a long time to realise she’s no longer alone in the room, and she smiles faintly.

“What can I do for you?”  
  
“You could start by letting me help you.” He mutters, and she sighs, turning the page of her book.

“We’ve already discussed this. There’s nothing to be done about it.”

Her father pulls the door closed behind him with a soft click, and she glances up at the sound, setting her book aside.

“Does mother know what he’s done to me?” She asks quietly, and he pauses.

“She does not.”

“Do you plan to enlighten her?”

He’s silent for a long moment and she looks away. Her mother would be unlikely to do anything in her daughter’s defence, likely say she’d done something to warrant it, especially since she’d never been struck, herself.

So instead, she holds out her arms to him and lets him strip her of her clothing, gentle hands healing the marks Theodore has put on her body, and she revels in his familiar touch as he takes her to bed. At first it hurts so badly from Theodore’s abuses she nearly cries, but he notices and takes time to use magic to fade her pain. She clings to him tightly as he slowly moves against her, careful to be gentle even though it no longer pains her, and swallows her moans of pleasure with his kiss.

She swears she’s never felt more loved than in this moment, and as he rolls onto his back, letting her straddle him and take her pleasure from his body, she’s happy again. Happier than she had been or will ever be.

His fingers curl in her hair, tugging her down and kissing her slowly as her hips increase their rhythm, and he groans quietly, his free hand grasping at her hip and helping guide her movements, as she feels her orgasm building.

When she comes, it’s with a hoarse cry of his name as her body shudders, the first time she’s ever called him by his name, and he seems surprised, but she finds herself suddenly trapped beneath him, his hips clashing with hers as he builds a faster rhythm. Her legs wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer to her, and he wraps an arm around her, no space between them at all, as his hips stutter in their rhythm, pushing twice more before he comes as well, his lips on hers in a deeply passionate kiss.

He pulls her back on top of him as he lays back, and she inhales slowly, body trembling, as she’s still wrapped tightly in his embrace.  
  
As he carefully removes himself from her, she feels a sticky trail of his seed trickling down the inside of her thigh, and she rolls onto her stomach, lips pursed. For the first time, in their post-coital exhaustion, she feels different. Her heartbeat hasn’t slowed and her hands tremble slightly, and something just doesn’t feel right.

It’s him, she finally decides. Being with him again.

His fingertips slide over her bare shoulder and she turns towards him, curling up in his arms, and as she drifts off to sleep, she feels safe, for the first time in a long while.  
  
  
  
  
The sun filtering through the curtains wakes her, and she groans, burying her head beneath her pillow.

Mornings seem to come far too early and often these days.

She stretches but finds no warmth beside her in the bed, and sighs heavily. Already gone. The door bangs open and she groans again.

“Go away.”  
  
“Careful, love.” The response is low with warning, and she grits her teeth, grasping at the pillow and pulling it further over her head. The sheets are twisted suddenly, and she grasps them with a startled yelp, suddenly panicking at the thought of Theodore discovering her in her current state.

“Get up. Breakfast is in five minutes.”

Great.

“Well, do go away and let me dress.”

“Why? Not like I haven’t seen you before.”

“Just _go,_ Theodore.” She snaps, feeling bolder, with the relief that he wouldn’t dare raise a hand to her in her father’s house.  

True to form, he splutters for a moment, then she hears his footsteps turn to pace the room. He’s muttering to herself, never a good sign, and when she least expects it, he grasps the sheets again, tearing them off her.

She shrieks at the sudden rush of air over her bare skin, and he laughs, a dark sound that makes her shudder.

“Whoring about last night, were we?”

“And where were _you,_ last night?” She mutters. “No doubt Daphne Greengrass enjoyed the _pleasure_ of— your _full_ attentions..”  
  
“Shut _up.”_ He hisses. “And get out of bed. You’ll be late for breakfast.”  
  
Grumbling curses under her breath, she sits up, rubbing her eyes. The thought of food sounds appalling at this hour, but then again, it isn’t exactly early.

Making her way into the bathroom, she bathes quickly, washing the stickiness from her body, and dresses quickly, pulling her hair into a loose knot at the nape of her neck as she hurries down the corridor.  
  
“Aurora. Nice of you to join us this morning.”  
  
She ignores her mother’s comment as she slides silently into her place beside Theodore, glancing at the food before grimacing and looking away. Too early for food. The sight makes her nauseous.

So she sips at a glass of juice and listens to the conversations around her, until a glass being set down a little too loudly startles her from her silent contemplation. Draco is staring at her curiously from across the table.

“Not hungry?”

She shakes her head silently, lowering her glass, and turns her attentions to the animated argument seeming to pass between some of the occupants of the table.

Politics. They’re arguing about politics. At _breakfast!_

Merlin forbid.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Aurora wakes the next morning and instantly regrets that decision. The sunlight is overly bright and hurts her eyes, and she just feels sick. Getting out of bed is not an option that day.  
Theodore eventually comes in to wonder if she’s coming to breakfast, but she waves him off and ignores his questions, closing her eyes as she rolls over.  
  
“Go away. I’m sick.”  
  
“You’re sick?”

If she didn’t know better, she’d have thought she heard genuine concern in his voice.

“What’s wrong? Do you need a Healer?”  
  
“No, Theo. I just need to sleep it off.” She murmurs, and he reaches over to feel her forehead.  
  
“Aurora, you’re burning up.”  
  
“Great, then I have dragonflu. Let me sleep and it’ll pass.”  
  
He purses his lips but leaves her in peace, or she thought he did, until he returns with his mother. Cressida feels her forehead as well, and sends Theodore off with a quick murmured conversation as she perches on the edge of the bed, watching as Aurora blinks tiredly at her, then tries to sit up, but fails.

“Tell me what’s wrong, dear.”

“I’m cold.” She murmurs, clutching the blankets tighter. “But not all the time.”

“You do have a fever, dear.”

 “I feel as though I’m going to be sick, as well. I have for a few days.”

Cressida touches a cool palm to Aurora’s forehead.

“Should I call a Healer?”

“No, I’ll be alright.” Aurora assures her weakly. “I just need to sleep.”

Cressida consents and leaves her alone, and she mercifully sleeps on and off for the next few days, but her condition doesn’t improve.

After a week in bed, though, she’s too bored to stay in and sleep any more. Theodore walks in just as she’s attempting to untangle herself from the covers.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m so bored.” She complains. “I want to get up.”

“Aurora, you’re too ill.”

“No I’m not.” She mutters stubbornly, and he sighs. “Fine.”

Crossing to her side of the bed, he peels the covers back, helping her up.  
  
  
Evidently Theodore was right about something for once, as she stands from the bed, then sighs and promptly faints.  
  
  
When she wakes again, Astoria and Daphne are at her bedside, and she wonders for a moment if this is some odd dream.

“What are you two doing here?” She questions hoarsely, and they look up, startled.

“We’ve been taking turns sitting up with you.” Astoria answers quickly, reaching for her hand.  

“Why?”

“You’ve been sick for a week.” Daphne offers, and she sighs.

“Yes, I know. I fainted, didn’t I.”

“Theo’s gone for a Healer. They should arrive soon.”

“I’m _fine.”_ Aurora complains, but the sisters will have none of it, and she sulks as Theodore enters the room, a woman in Healer’s robes behind him.

“I’m bloody _fine.”_ She says grumpily as the woman approaches, and doesn’t miss the exasperated look Theodore exchanges with Astoria and Daphne.

“What have your symptoms been?” The woman asks carefully, and Aurora glares at her.

“I have dragonflu.” She retorts angrily.

“When is it worst?” 

“When?” Aurora squints at her, and the woman purses her lips.

“What time of day.”

“Oh. When I wake up, I suppose.”

“Lack of appetite?”

“Sometimes..”

“I have some quick spells to run a few tests. You won’t be able to feel them.”

Aurora scowls but didn’t speak, turning her gaze to the ceiling as the Healer does her tests.  
  
A moment later, the Healer lays down her wand, sending a quick glance at the others.

“Would you care to have them wait outside?”

“If you think they need to.” Aurora mutters, motioning to Theodore. He purses his lips but herds Astoria and Daphne from the room. The door closes behind them nearly silently, and the woman looks back at her after it does.  
  
  
  
“You do not have dragonflu. You are with child.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

The Healer had given her a potion to calm her stomach, but Aurora still refused to get out of bed. Theodore had been over the moon when she’d informed him, and, true to her expectations, was leaving her completely alone.

A knock at the door startles her from her thoughts, and she reluctantly calls entry, but instantly brightens as it’s Draco who appears.  

“What are you doing here?” She asks, forcing herself to sit up, and he frowns.

“The Notts failed to inform us until today that you were ill, even though it’s been, what, a week?”

“Oh. Yes. But they sent for a Healer two days ago and I’m alright now.”

“What’s wrong, sis?” He sits on the edge of the bed, and she glances up, drawing a shuddering breath.  
  
“I’m with child.”  
  
The smile he sends her is saddened, but not surprised.

“I figured as such.”  
  
Shaking her head, she pushes at the sheets.

“I have to see father.”

"Why? Aurora, you're still ill."

"That may be, but the last thing I want is for father to hear secondhand. He'd be furious that neither of us told him, and Merlin forbid Jameson Nott find out before he does."

  
  
  
Lucius looks up as Aurora opens his study door, initial annoyance at being interrupted fading as a soft smile crosses his face.

“Father..”

“Aurora, love. What brings you here?”

Sighing, she crosses the room and perches on the edge of his desk, reaching for his hands.

“I’ve been ill for the last week. The Notts sent for a Healer for me, and.. I didn't want you to find out from them rather than me.”

"Find out that you've been ill?" He arches an eyebrow at her and waits for her to elaborate.

"Ill because I'm with child."  
  
His eyes widen slightly, before his face turns to an emotionless front, but he swallows hard.

“You— you are?”

She nods slowly.

“I do not believe the child is Theodore’s.”  
  
He’s silent for a long moment, but his grip on her hands tighten ever so slightly.

  
 “I believe the child is yours.”  
  
  
“What makes you say that?” He finally asks, and she closes her eyes for a moment.

“When we were together that night, before the wedding, it just felt different. I though initially it was because I was finally with you again, not Theo, but.. Now that I think about it, it makes sense.”

She sighs heavily.

“I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see, when the child is born. But I dare not think about the consequences should Theodore find out about any of this."  
 

  
Nine months seem to pass quickly now that Theodore has finally decided to leave her to her own devices, happy he has an heir. His mother fawns over her, ecstatic at the promise of a grandchild. His father had never had much to do with her, and is always away on business or the likes, and his bratty little sister is back at Hogwarts. She’s allowed to visit home as often as she likes, leaving her with Lucius, Draco, and Astoria, who she’s become rather close with over the months.  
  
It’s the beginning of the Christmas holiday when the baby comes, and it surprises her how seemingly normal the circumstances are.

They were already staying at Malfoy Manor, so it’s Astoria who calls for a Healer and lets Aurora hang on to her hand through her labour.

Theodore paces outside the room when Astoria shoos him out, acting the part of the concerned husband and father-to-be, until a fed-up Draco finally drags him off to calm him down.

Narcissa is thankfully off in Milan or Rome or some other place, so Aurora doesn’t have to deal with her, and the baby comes rather quickly after the potions the Healer gives her.

  
Astoria sends for Theodore and he comes bursting in just as the Healer is placing the baby in Aurora’s arms, and he hops onto the bed beside her, the childlike wonder on his face bringing the tiniest of smiles to Aurora’s lips.

It’s a boy, and Theo is happy to have his heir, chattering excitedly about what to name him.

 

Aurora is silent, however, letting him ramble as he pleases, eyes fixed on the child that looks exactly like Lucius.  



	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens...

Theodore has decided after a bit of consideration that their son should be named Altair, in following the tradition of Purebloods naming their children after stars or components of the solar system; Altair is the brightest star in the eagle constellation- the Aquila.

Altair Nott.

The irony of her child bearing Theodore’s surname, when anyone looking at him would instantly say he was a Malfoy, did not escape her.

Her son already has a mop of downy platinum blonde fuzz, almost white it’s so pale, and large grey eyes. She thanks Merlin she and Lucius shared the same physical traits, making it easy to say her son simply took after her rather than Theodore.

Astoria reenters the room a moment later, returning to Aurora’s side and peeking at the baby. She waits until Theodore is momentarily distracted to give Aurora a curiously searching look.  
Aurora glances away. She knows Astoria is thinking the same thing she is. It’s not unheard of for Pureblood babies to take after their mothers, but with the combined genetics of their families, it’s rare, and even rarer for a child to look entirely like the mother.

The door is thrown open then, bringing in her father and brother, both of them looking concerned beyond words.

Draco hops up on the bed to look at the baby immediately, but her father, for all his initial concern, seems to become guarded once he confirms she’s all right, and pauses at the foot of the bed, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he seems at a loss for what to say or do now.

Aurora looks up from the baby, letting Draco fiddle with the blanket and peek at her son, and meets her father’s questioning gaze, pursing her lips slightly, and motioning with a quirk of her finger for him to come look.

He hesitantly steps to the side of the bed, and she offers him the blanket-wrapped bundle, which he carefully takes. She watches him intently as he runs a fingertip over the baby’s downy hair, then tickles his cheek until he opens his eyes.

She watches Lucius’s hesitantly curious expression go blank, and he passes the baby to an excited Draco, licking his lips nervously, then leaves the room. Aurora is the only one to notice him go, as Theodore, Draco, and Astoria are all far too absorbed in obsessing over baby Altair.  
  
  
With the healing potions and spells given her, she’s out of bed the next day. Theodore is accompanying his father, or being dragged, in his opinion, to some International Wizarding Affairs conference in Dubai, and Aurora is thankfully left alone.

She wanders the Manor for a good hour, lugging Altair along in her arms. For an eight pound baby, he grows heavy rather quickly. She finally sits alone in the Conservatory, staring at the baby, unsure what to do. There is no doubt whatsoever this is not Theodore’s child.

Lucius’s son.

She’s torn between wanting to love all over him, to protect this one thing she can have to remind her of him, and not wanting anything to do with him, lost in the concept of Theodore taking her son from her and claiming him as his own.  
  
Finally, she gives up and barges into her father’s study, startling him awake from where he’d evidently been dozing over a stack of parchments.  
He recovers after a moment of dazed blinking, and glares at her, then at baby Altair, who has begun to cry.

“What, Aurora?” He demands thickly, coughing slightly to clear the gravel of sleep from his voice.  
  
“He wants his father.” She snaps as he sends the baby another irritated look.  
  
“So here, take your son.”  
  
  
She thrusts the baby into his arms, and Lucius temporarily distracts himself with calming the hysterical baby, then is forced to return his attention to his equally upset daughter.  
  
He nestles the baby into a blanket on the settee, then turns to her.

“You’re absolutely sure?” He asks quietly, and she glares tearfully at him.

“Look at him. Look at his face, then look me in the eyes and tell me he’s not your son.”  
  
Lucius glances back at the baby for a long moment, then turns back to her with a heavy sigh.

“I cannot.”  
  
She nods once, folding her arms over her stomach and turning away.  
  
“Theodore doesn’t suspect?”  
  
She shrugs faintly.

“If he does, he’s kept his suspicions to himself. I believe he’s more wrapped up in the fact he has an heir than he is concerned his child bears an uncanny resemblance to his wife rather than himself.”  
  
“If you’re sure, Aurora. There is absolutely no way we can allow him to discover this.”  
  
“Or what? If he finds out, he finds out. There’s not much we can do.”  
  
“And what happens when he discovers his wife was unfaithful and his son is not his child? You’ve said, and shown, that he’s violent towards you. Please, my dear, tell me how much you believe he’ll forgive you for such a transgression.”  
  
“Unfaithfulness doesn’t matter. It’s not as if he doesn’t have affairs. It’s even expected of us, and you know that.”  
  
“Perhaps that is more easily ignored, but if he discovers his heir is not actually his son?”

  
“That would be unforgivable. I know.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is super short, I know. I'm sorry.

“You know, Aurora, I think I might have been wrong about you.”

Theodore’s words make her nearly choke, her cup set down with a heavy clank.

“What exactly do you mean by that?”

Theodore is bent over the cradle, carefully gathering baby Altair into his arms with a faint smile on his face.

“You aren’t as much as a bitch as I thought you were at school.”

He says it in such a casual way it floors her, and she gapes at him for a long moment, unsure how to respond to such a statement.

“Er.. What?”

He looks up, a smirk on his lips, and she stares for a long moment. She’s never really noticed how attractive Theodore is. When he smirks, it gives him a devilishly handsome air, and she blinks pensively at him.

He gives her a hint of what might almost be a smile. “I think I was mean to you because you stood up to me.”

She arches an eyebrow, and he shrugs faintly with a grin.

“Not many girls stand up to you?” She asks, and he rolls his eyes.

“Aurora. Darling. We attended school at the same time, in the same house. You saw who I spent my time with. Do tell me, love, how many girls you saw stand up to me.”

“Not one.”  

He nods in agreement. “Therefore, when you weren’t afraid to snap back at me, I was unsure what to do.”

“Did it truly bother you that much to have a girl on the Quidditch team?”

He sends her a wry look. “It bothered me that you were better at it that I was.”

“You were jealous.” She replies, amused. “So that’s why you tried to sabotage me?” 

He winces, then sends her a sweetly innocent smile. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

“Of course not. That time when you rammed right into me and I almost fell of my broom but broke my leg from the impact, that was an accident.”

“Yes.”

“And the time my broom went missing and we found it pushed in the back of the closet in the locker rooms?”

“Must have been the Weasley Twins.”

“What about the time you yelled at me when the team lineup was posted and Draco almost had to hex you and threatened to kick you off the team to get you off me?”

He pauses. “Eh— Okay. Fine. I don’t have an excuse for that one.”

She laughs, and he pauses to look at her curiously.

“What?”

He shrugs. “You have a cute laugh. I don’t think I’ve heard you laugh before.”

She stares at him with pursed lips for a long moment. “I haven’t had much reason to laugh lately.”

Her voice is quiet, but he still hears, and sighs. “I know, Aurora.”

He’ll never apologise for how he’s treated her, but she sees regret in his eyes, and nods faintly, acknowledging what he can never say aloud.

They’re silent for a long time, in which Theodore seems to be overthinking something, one hand pressed to his temple as he playing with Altair with the other.

“You know something, Aurora? This little guy sure is handsome.”

“Yes, he is.”

Theodore is silent again for a moment, letting a happy Altair gnaw on his thumb.

“But, you know what would make him even better looking?”

 “What’s that?” Aurora asks vaguely, only breaking part of her attention from her work to respond to him.

Theodore glances up at her with a searching, almost pained, look, brushing Altair’s pale hair back with a fingertip.

 

“If he had some Nott blood in addition to Malfoy.”


	13. Chapter 13

Aurora feels her blood run cold at his words. She can’t move, paralysed with fear at what he’s inferring, her face white and lips bloodless.   
She finally manages to turn her gaze to him, and he stares back levelly, looking nearly saddened.

 “What on earth is that supposed to mean?” She finally manages to speak, biting back the tremor in her voice.   
  
Theodore sighs. “Aurora, please. Don’t play games. You’re only making it harder for yourself.”  
  
It feels as though a knife is being twisted in her stomach, and her heart seems as though it will beat out of her chest. 

 “Of course he’ll have Malfoy blood, Theodore, have you forgotten what I am?”  
  
“No child looks this much like his mother, Aurora. Purebloods. It’s unheard of.”  
  
“It’s rare, I’ll give you that, but it is not unheard of.”

  “You know it is.”  
  
“And so you think you’re not his father?” She snapped, frowning at him, and he glowered right back.

“Pray tell me, Theodore, who exactly you think his father is?”  
  
“There’s only Draco, or Lucius. You seem awfully close to them, especially Lucius. Which is worse, I wonder. Bearing the child of your brother? Or your father?”  
  
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Theodore. Why on Merlin’s bloody earth would I fuck my family? That’s called incest, you know.”  
  
“And perfectly legal and accepted among Purebloods. How are we related, again? Second cousins, or something of that sort?”   
  
“I doubt it’s that closely, I don’t think a Nott has married a Malfoy since the seventeenth century.”  
  
“Hm.” He is momentarily distracted in thinking about it. “There’s always the tapestries.”  
  
She nods, trying to maintain his distraction, afraid to speak.   
  
“So who was it, Aurora? Which one?”   
  
His voice and eyes have developed a hardness to them, the look he would get before he would strike her, and she cringes away from him as he rises, placing the baby back in his cradle.   
  
“Aurora, just tell me.” His back is to her, but she can see the tension in his shoulders as he pauses, his fingers flexing at his sides. “Make it easier for yourself and tell me now.”  
  
“Even if what you say is true, do you really think I’d willingly admit to it?” She replies lowly, and he glances back at her over his shoulder, his eyes burning. “No, I don’t believe you would. However, you will not enjoy it if you make me resort to forcing it out of you.”  
  
“You truly believe I slept with my father or my brother simply because our son looks like me rather than you?”  
  
“Your genetics are not the dominant ones. Besides, there’s easy tests to find out. St. Mungo’s can do it in less than an hour. Shall we?”   
  
He offered his arm to her mockingly, and she glared at him. “You’d create a scandal by dragging me and Altair there demanding a paternity test.”  
  
“And it shall create a scandal otherwise should it be proved I am right.”  
  
“I should think you would prefer to avoid scandal rather than create it. You are making a deal out of nothing.”  
  
“And if you truly believe that, you should not have an issue with accompanying me and our son to St. Mungo’s and having a simple, quick test performed on him.”  
  
“Theodore, we’re arguing in circles and getting nowhere. Just admit you don’t trust me and we can leave it at that.”  
  
“Have you given me a reason to?”  
  
“It’s not exactly as if I’ve given you a reason not to..”  
  
He opens his mouth and snaps it shut, then glares at her as she cuts him off.   
  
“Unlike others of us in this room. Tell me, Theodore, what reasons I have to trust you. You harassed me and bullied me for years at school. Then we married and you’ve raped me and hit me more times than I care to remember. And you clearly didn’t stop seeing your ex-girlfriend after we married.”  
  
She pauses, fixing him with her steely grey stare.   
  
“They say Daphne Greengrass is pregnant, Theo.”  
  
“Where did you hear that?” He asks with a furrowed brow, fixing her with a genuinely confused stare. “Daphne’s pregnant?”  
  
Aurora freezes and stares at him with wide eyes. “You— you didn’t know? Astoria told me..”  
  
“No, I— didn’t.”  
  
They stare at each other in shock for a long moment, then he turns and drops back into his chair.  

“Is it yours, Theo?” She asks quietly, and he buries his face in his hands for a moment, then nods once, refusing to look at her.   
  
“Unless she’s started sleeping around without my knowledge, yes.”  
  
She sighs quietly, sitting down beside him.   
  
“Is this something that can be overcome?” She asks softly, and he glances up at her, and she’s shocked to see faint tears in his eyes.   
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“Can we forgive each other? Or is this something too big to work around? Can we start again?”  
  
“You’d be willing to just ‘overlook’ the fact that I fathered a child outside of our marriage?”  
  
“Depends on whether you’ll be willing to ‘overlook’ the fact that ‘our’ son isn’t truly ‘ours’, only ‘mine’.”  
  
“So you did sleep with Draco. Or Lucius.”  
  
“Yes.” She finally replies simply.  
  
“Which?”  
  
“Lucius.”  
  
“Jesus Christ, Aurora.”  
  
“You’re not allowed to say that. That’s a Muggle swear.”  
  
“I’ve run out of anything better to say. Your father?”   
  
“Familial love.” She mutters. “Like you said, Purebloods. Common, legal, and accepted.”  
  
He frowns, then sighs heavily. “I suppose I’m not quite in any place to judge you.”  
  
“You’re not. But in return, I don’t judge you for what you’ve done.”  
  
“With Daphne, at least. I suppose you hate me eternally for what I’ve done to you.”  
  
“It’s hard to like a man that beats you, Theodore.”  
  
“I _know,_ Aurora.” He groans, and she bites the inside of her cheek. 

“How I treat you is how I was raised to, watching my father with my mother.” He mutters, then glances up at her. “I don’t mean to treat you like this, Aurora. But I have a temper, I’ve always known that, and it’s impulsive behaviour. I don’t realise what I’m doing until it’s done.”  
  
“Do you think you could ever learn to love me, Aurora?” He finally asks quietly, and she fixes him with her gaze for a long moment.   
  
“I don’t know, Theo.” She replies softly. “Can you learn to when you’re in love with someone else?”  
  
He looks up at her with pained eyes. “That’s hard to say, Rory.”  
  
She’s surprised at his use of a nickname for her, but smiles faintly. It sounds better than the stiff ‘Theodore’ and ‘Aurora’. They are married, after all.   
  
“I wouldn’t know.” He adds bitterly, and she cocks her head slightly.   
  
“Have you ever been in love?”  
  
He looks up at her, expression filled with such pain she can’t help but feel bad for asking.   
  
“No, I can’t say that I have. I won’t submit myself to the torture of loving someone who is in love with someone else, so that rules you out. I slept around in school, nothing special there. The closest thing I’ve had is Daphne, and she was never interested in the concept of love or marriage.”   
He looks away.   
“She’s a free spirit. I doubt she could properly care for a child, much less a family.”  
  
“Yes, what do you intend to do about that?”   
  
“I’d have to speak to her about it. No doubt she’ll pawn it off on her family and not accept any responsibility.”  
  
“On her family. Meaning her parents? Her sister? Or us? I suppose now she’s my sister-in-law.”  
  
“Would you take care of it as your own?”  
  
She glances to Altair.   
  


  
“Will you do the same?”

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

Six months pass without major incident, and Aurora is more than happy to be left to her own devices to raise her son. Their conversations seem to have done something to Theodore.   
He has given Aurora much more freedom than before, allowing her to spend as much time at the Malfoy Manor as she likes, and he’s given up his abuses of her, and, as a new change, waiting for her to initiate any sexual contact rather than seeking her out.   
They no longer have to share a bed, as Theo’s given her their bedroom and moved down the hall. More increasingly, though, Aurora finds her way to his bed, curled up with him. She thinks it’s the need for companionship from someone other than a baby, and he seems to understand, willing to oblige her, and they increasingly become closer, finding more things to talk about every night, from books they’ve read to politics to old memories from Hogwarts.   
He’s even resigned to playing a casual practice version of Quidditch with her, even though he complains about her being better at the game than himself. Draco will occasionally come over and bring Astoria, and the four will play two-on-two for hours.   
  
They’ve become quite good friends by the time Daphne shows up on the Nott Manor doorstep. She looks horrible, dark circles under her eyes and dressed in unflattering clothes, a sharp contrast to her normally polished looks, a baby in her arms.  
It’s Aurora who finds her first after a house-elf reluctantly allows her in, leaving her in the entrance hall.   
  
“Where’s Theo?” Daphne asks, her voice hoarse.  
  
“He’s gone with his father for the weekend. Brighton, I think.”  
  
“Oh, Merlin.” Daphne moans, glowering at the baby as it begins to wail.   
“Shut _up,_ you stupid thing!” She cries, and Aurora takes the bundle from her before she strangles the poor thing, her free hand guiding Daphne into the drawing room, pushing her into a chair to sit. Daphne looks up at her with red, swollen eyes and a frown.   
  
“I take it this is the child we’ve all heard so much about.”  
  
Daphne looks away. “You’ve heard about it?”  
  
Aurora frowns slightly. “Astoria told me you were pregnant several months ago. It didn’t take much to figure out who’s it is.”  
  
Daphne shrugs faintly, staring into the fire as Aurora calms the baby.   
  
“Girl or boy?” She asks, and Daphne looks blankly at her. “Girl, I think. I’ve not paid much attention, I don’t care. The house elves do what they can to take care of it.”  
  
“So I take it you haven’t named her.”  
  
Daphne shakes her head slowly.   
  
“Why are you here, Daphne?” Aurora finally asks quietly, and Daphne sighs, biting her lip.   
  
“I need Theo’s help.”  
  
“With?”  
  
Daphne turns her red eyes to her again.   
  
“Because I can’t do it, Aurora. I was never meant to be a mother. This thing is driving me crazy. I haven’t slept since it was born. I’m still in so much pain it hurts to even breathe, and this stupid thing will never shut up. My house elves do what they can to help me out, but there’s only so much they can do.”  
 She sniffles, swiping carelessly at her eyes.   
  
“So you want to palm your responsibility off on Theo. Or rather me, since caring for children is a woman’s job.”  
  
Daphne doesn’t respond, looking miserable, and Aurora sighs, glancing down at the now sleeping baby.  
  
“You realise the scandal this would cause.”  
  
Daphne looks up again, corners of her mouth turned down in a frown.   
  
“You know they say your child isn’t Theo’s.”  
  
“Do they?” Aurora replies vaguely, sending Daphne a level stare when she looks over. “People will say a lot of things.”  
  
“They say your child is your brother’s. Everyone who was at school with you believes it’s true. You two were awfully close.”  
  
Aurora arches an eyebrow. “I can assure you, I have never slept with my brother, and Altair is not Draco’s son.”   
  
“You would say that. No one would willingly admit to their brother being their child’s father, Aurora.” She laughs almost wildly. “We’re Purebloods. Incest isn’t a bad thing. We’ve all done it.”  
  
“Excuse me?” Aurora snaps, and Daphne grins. “Please. There’s no need to be so sanctimonious. When you’re young and just getting into sexual experimentation, who better to teach you than your older brother? At the very least, you know you can trust him.”  
  
“I’ve never had sex with Draco, Daphne. The thought never occurred.”  
  
“Not to you, maybe.” Daphne replies with a roll of her brown eyes. “But if you were one of us who went to school with the two of you and saw how he looked at you, I can tell you right now the thought definitely occurred to him.”  
  
“Maybe you whored around with your brothers when you were young, Daphne Greengrass, but I did not. Insulting and accusing me is not going to make me more inclined to take care of your foolish mistake.” She snaps, indicating the sleeping baby.   
  
“It’s Theo’s mistake, not mine.” Daphne replies with a shrug, and Aurora sees red for a moment. Clearly letting her in had been a mistake.   
  
“What’s my mistake?”  
  
Both girls look up suddenly as Theodore wanders into the room, absently scanning a Daily Prophet.   
  
“You’re back early.” Aurora comments nervously, and he sighs.   
  
“If I had to sit through one more meeting about magical agricultural rights I was going to kill someone, so I left early. Dad’s not going to be happy when he gets back, though.”  
  
He flips the page, clearly not having noticed Daphne yet. “What did you do this weekend, then?”  
  
“Entertained your mistakes.” Aurora replies bitterly, and he looks up suddenly. “You wh—“  
  
He cuts off as his gaze fixes on Daphne, looking startled, as Daphne arches an eyebrow at him. His eyes flicker to Aurora and the bundle in her arms, and sends her a pointed look. Aurora nods faintly, and Theodore sighs heavily, folding the newspaper and tossing it aside.   “Why are you here, Daphne?”  
  
“She wants to palm her child off on us.” Aurora responds before Daphne can speak.   
  
“Aurora, love.. Blinky was looking for you. Altair woke up, I think. Will you go check on him?” Theo asks quietly as he sits on the couch next to her. She glares at him, but shoves the baby into his arms and stands to leave the room.

  “Thanks, Malfoy, always knew I could count on you.” Daphne calls after her. Aurora shakes her head slightly as she leaves.

She’s absolutely crazy. She was always weird at school, but having a baby has completely unhinged her.


	15. Chapter 15

“I suppose the poor child needs a name..”

  
Aurora glances up to find Theodore staring pensively at the baby- Daphne’s baby- nestled carefully in the cradle she’s rudely displaced Altair from, the unhappy boy currently cuddled in Aurora’s arms.  
She nods once in agreement, and he frowns, looking over the tapestry on the wall for a long moment.  
  
“Maia.”

Aurora arches an eyebrow, and he shrugs. “Great aunt.”  
  
“Suit yourself.”  
  
“You don’t like it?”  
  
“It doesn’t matter whether I like it or not, it’s not my kid to name.”  
  
He blinks at her, then sighs. “Honestly, Aurora. How long are you going to be bitter about this?”  
  
“I thought before I’d be okay with it when it was just discussed. But she’s _crazy,_ and she’s dumping the responsibility of her child on me. Not you, _me._ You’re gone all the time, Theo, so it’s up to _me_ to raise her.”  
  
“Aurora, I’m sorry, but what do you want me to do about it?” He replies in exasperation, sending her a frown, and she glares at him.  
  
“Grow a spine, and make her own up to her own bloody responsibilities and take her kid back!” 

“She’d kill the poor child if she had to raise her.”  
  
“Maybe you should have thought about that before you knocked her up..” She sends him a poisonous glare and rises to leave the room.  
  
“Do we really have to have this fight again, Aurora?” He snaps. “It’s a part of our lifestyle. You aren’t exactly the most faithful of wives, either, if _he’s_ any indication.”  
  
He nods to Altair, and Aurora instinctively clutches the baby closer to her. “It isn’t part of our lifestyle to take in your mistress’s children, Theo. Our lives are scrutinised enough without intentionally causing scandals.”  
  
“Oh sure, I can’t take in Daphne’s daughter, who is _actually_ my child, but your son, who is your bloody _father’s_ kid, is perfectly fine?”  
  
“Because everyone thinks he’s yours, Theo! Dear Merlin, leave it be! We’ve had this discussion far too many times and it’s getting old. _Literally no one knows_. But everyone knows that Maya or whatever you named her isn’t my daughter, it’s Daphne bloody Greengrass’s child.”  
  
Theodore squints at her for a moment. “Maia. What’s with you?”  
  
“What’s _with_ me?” She hisses. “I’m done playing babysitter for Daphne’s kid.”  
  
“Are you pregnant again?”  
  
“What?” She demands, shocked, and he frowns. “You’re only like this when you’re pregnant.”  
  
“Or just furious in general. I haven’t had sex for months, with anyone, so don’t worry about it.” She snaps, and he arches an eyebrow.  
  
“That can be _remedied.”_  
  
_“No,_ don’t bother.” She replies quickly, clutching Altair tighter to her chest.  
  
Theo snaps his fingers anyways, and their house elf appears a moment later. “Tippy, please take the baby back to his nursery.”  
  
Tippy stretches up her hands for the baby, but Aurora just glares at Theo. “You will not take my child from me right now.”  
  
“I don’t want to hurt him, Aurora.” Theodore replies flatly, and she looks up at him, swallowing hard. The old Theodore was coming back, she could see it in the faint glint in his dark eyes.  
  
Reluctantly, she allows Tippy to take Altair from her, and the house elf disappears from the room, closing the door gently behind her.  
  
Aurora and Theodore both watch her go in silence, then both glance back to each other at the same time.  
  
“Theo, please don’t..” She whispers, and he glares at her.  
  
“I can’t, Aurora. I’ve done everything to care for your child even through he’s not mine, but when I ask the same of you in return, you’re breaking down. Why?”  
  
“Because I can’t do this, Theo, I really can’t! I hate waking up every morning and having to lay there wondering how you’re going to treat me today, whether you’ll be my best friend or you’ll be angry and hitting me. I don’t want to put my son through that, Theo. What happens when he’s a bit older? When he can walk, talk, and get himself into mischief? Will you start hitting him, too, when he does something wrong or irritates you? Will you start taking your anger out on him, instead of just me? You’ve recognised multiple times that he’s not your son, I wouldn’t put it past you to be punishing him for that.”  
  
She stares at him tearfully as he gazes back at her blankly, his face devoid of all emotion.

  
“Therefore, I am going home for the day, taking Altair with me. I think I’ll leave him there, under the care of my family, for his protection, unless you can otherwise convince me he does not need it.”  
  
He drums his fingers absently on the table beside him, then turns to sit back in the armchair, his dark gaze fixed on Maia, the baby becoming fitful in her sleep.  
  
“Suit yourself, Aurora. Suit yourself.” Was the only answer she could get out of him, and she makes a disgusted sound, turning and stalking from the room, going in search of her son.


	16. Chapter 16

Altair coos and makes a grab for her fingers as she bundles him into his carrier, and she pauses to watch him for a moment. He was growing so fast.  
He looks up at her as she had stopped in the middle of tucking his blanket around him, his grey eyes wide and curious, and she presses a gentle kiss to the platinum fuzz of hair on his head, sighing quietly as she hoists up the carrier, opening the door and peering out. She’d have to take the car or muggle transportation, as she couldn’t fly her broomstick with a baby carrier, and apparating with a baby was far too dangerous, not to mention illegal.  
  
There was a train station in the nearby town, which stopped at the station closest to the Ministry. Managing to remove her watch to check it, she purses her lips. Her father and brother would still be at work, it would be best to go to them, rather than go to the manor and risk that Astoria would be out and the only one home would be her mother.  
  
She escapes the manor without coming across another soul, opening the big iron gates and slipping out. Sending a quick glance back at the house, one of the curtains in an upper window wiggles slightly, pushed back into place.  
Turning, she heads quickly for the train station, checking the schedule. The next train was listed to come in twenty minutes. As long as Theodore didn’t come after her in that time, as she knew he’d been watching her leave, she’d be safe.  
  
But today would be the last time he abused her, she would see to that. Digging through her purse, she extracts her wand, hastily performing a contraceptive charm that she’d forgotten to do.  
The last thing she wanted would to be to fall pregnant from his earlier ‘attentions’, as a baby would be a bargaining chip for him to force her to stay. She’d suffered through satisfying him once more, if nothing but to keep him distracted from going after Altair.  
  
“Aurora?”  
  
She starts at the apprehensive call of her name, and looks up, meeting a familiar face, framed with bushy brown hair. Hermione Granger.  
  
The two had known each other somewhat at school, as both top of their classes, they sometimes studied together or would have conversations outside class. Hermione had been wary of her at first, rude to her, even, but once she found that Aurora had no inclination to bully her the way her brother did, she became decidedly more friendly.  
  
Aurora ducks her head slightly, touching the Concealing Charm covering the new bruises on her face, the ripple of magic over her fingers guaranteeing it was still in place, before she answers her.  
  
“Hermione.. What are you doing out here? Heard you were living in Camden or something.”  
  
“I live in Richmond Upon Thames, now. Just moved, not a month past. What are you doing all the way out here? Seems an odd place to find you, the only Wizarding family in this area is the Notts, I thought. Didn’t you live in Wiltshire?”  
  
“That’s where my family’s manor is, yes. And didn’t you hear? I married Theodore Nott after graduation.”  
  
Hermione blinks owlishly at her. “Theodore Nott? I don’t mean to offend, but… Why?”  
  
“Because my parents arranged it.” She replies bitterly.  
  
“And this is your son?” Hermione asks, stooping to waggle her fingers at Altair. The baby coos with a gummy smile, grabbing at her fingers.  
  
“He’s my son, yes. I won’t try to pretend anymore that he’s Theodore’s child, because he’s not. Please don’t ask who.” She adds as she sees Hermione’s mouth open in question, and the witch nods.  
  
“I won’t.”  
  
A whistle sounds as the train has finally arrived, pulling into the station with a huff and puff of steam as it slows to a stop.  
  
“Where are you headed?” Hermione asks as they rise.  
  
“The Ministry.”  
  
“Oh, as am I. Perhaps you’ll accompany me there?”  
  
The two witches settle into a comfortable conversation reminiscent of their school days, talking of everything from art to new magical medical developments, and sooner than she expected, the train is pulling into King’s Cross, and they’re making their way into the Ministry.  
  
Relieved that she’s escaped Theodore without significant incident, she parts ways with Hermione in the main hall with arrangements to meet for tea the next week, and the witch heads for her office with a wave and a smile.  
  
Aurora looks around for a moment, then heads for the lift, wrapping her jumper tight around her shoulders as it descends towards the lower levels, the temperature falling with each floor it passes. The doors open onto the fifth floor, and she pauses in the hall to tuck the blanket in tightly around Altair, which he’s managed to knock nearly completely off of him, before going down the hall towards her father’s office.  
  
The door is open, and she pokes in, finding Draco at the previously empty desk in the main office area. Leda is scribbling away on a piece of parchment, a phone receiver pressed to her ear, but she looks up and smiles when Aurora enters, motioning her she’s free to go into her father’s office.  
  
“What are you doing here?”  
  
She glances over at her brother’s surprised tone, and sends him a tight-lipped smile.  
  
“Must talk to father, urgent business. How is Astoria?”  
  
“She’s pregnant.” Draco replies.  
  
“Really? How wonderful, congratulations.”  
  
“Yes.. I’m rather ready for her to go back to normal, though, it’s making her miserable.”  
  
“As it will. I will have to visit her soon.”  
  
“Please do, she’s been going on and on about how bored she is, but it’s a bit too difficult for her to be going into the city very often.”  
  
“Aurora?”  

Lucius has appeared in the doorway of his office, sending her a quizzical look.  
  
“Father..”  
  
He moves back to allow her past him into the office, and she settles the carrier onto one of the chairs opposite his desk before perching on the other.  
  
“Darling, what brings you here?”  
  
“Theodore and I are arguing, again.”  
  
He sighs, going to his desk chair. “Over?”  
  
“I fear for the safety of my child, leaving him there. He’s begun to abuse me again.”  
  
He stares at her levelly, but she catches the flicker of anger in his eyes.

 

“I want a divorce.”

 

He sighs again, sitting back.  
 

“Aurora, such matters are not so simple as signing a paper. There are more factors to your marriage than you perhaps realise, making it harder to absolve.”  
  
“I don’t care. Do what you must, I’ll help you if I can be of any use, but I fear for my child and my own safety staying any longer in that house. I was afraid he would follow me here. Luckily I ran into Hermione Granger at the station. If he was there, he chose not to approach.”  
  
“I doubt I would either, facing down Miss Granger.” He replied dryly, and she scowled at him.  
  
“You are changing the subject. I need you to help me.”  
  
  
He is quiet for a long moment, gazing blankly at the desktop, fingers steepled.  
  
“Aurora..”  
  
“Father. Please. I’m begging you to help me.”  
  
He sends her a hard look. “A divorce is a very long process, Aurora. And he will not be happy with this news. What do you plan to do in the meantime?”  
  
“I’ll get a flat somewhere if I can’t stay at home. But I refuse to go back to that house. After what he did today and the way I left.. He won’t be accepting of me coming back without me paying for it, dearly.”  
  
His cool gaze holds hers levelly, but his expression is one of pain.  
  
“I will start writing up the papers, then.”

 

 

“You did _what?!_ ”

Altair begins to cry at Narcissa’s screech, and Aurora gives her mother a steely glare as she rushes to comfort her son, rocking and bouncing him until he calms.  
  
“Mother, _please.”_ She snaps, and Narcissa fixes her with a look of uncaring disgust.  
  
“You are a Pureblood, Aurora. Your duty is to your husband, regardless of how he treats you. It’s a rare thing, to find a man who treats you kindly always. You learn to _deal with it_.”  
  
“Does that tolerance extend itself to physical abuse and rape?”  
  
“Have you denied your husband something he wants? He does own you, Aurora.”  
  
“What century is this? The bloody Middle Ages? I am not his property, I am a person, and I am my _own_ person. I am held accountable to no one but myself. I hold the right to deny him sex if I wish.”  
  
Narcissa gazes at her in disbelief, then laughs. “You do not. Listen to you. What has that bloody school done to you?”  
  
“Not a thing. My husband, however..”  
  
“Aurora, you may not leave him. I forbid you to do so. Do you know the scandal divorce causes? It’s unheard of. Marriage is absolved only by death. And you have his son, which he will take from you if you do such a thing.”  
  
“He is not Theodore’s son, and he knows this, therefore he holds no power there.”  
  
“Oh, dear Merlin." Narcissa rolls her eyes. "Whose son is he, then?”  
  
“I shall tell you nothing.”  
  
“You will.”  
  
“I shall not. I feared for my son’s safety and my life, therefore I escaped him, and I will not go back. You hold no power over me.”  
  
“I do, Aurora. You are no longer welcome in this house. Should you step foot in it again, I shall call the authorities.”  
  
“Father will disagree with such a statement.”  
  
“And if he does? It matters not. You shall have to go back to your husband in any case.”  
  
“Your reasoning?” Aurora questions bitterly.  
  
“The Minister will not grant you a divorce.”  
  
“The papers haven’t been filed yet, you do not know that.” 

“You believe me to be a castaway wife, don’t you. I am still, above anything, a Pureblood, and I hold power, Aurora. The Minister has already been informed of your so-called ‘situation’, and he will not grant you divorce.” Narcissa says, a look of barely-concealed smug satisfaction on her face.  
  
“You meddling bitch.”  
  
“How dare you? I am still your mother.”  
  
“Yes, and a bloody good one, you are.”  
  
“I shall call your father, and he will punish you for speaking to me in such a way. You forget your place, child.” Narcissa's normally pale face has turned a nearly apoplectic shade of red.  
  
“He will not.”  
  
“Get out.” Narcissa seethes. “You no longer have a place here, you are not welcome. Get _out!”_

 

 

Aurora finds Lucius in his study, unaware of the exchange that has just taken place, and she slams the door behind her, startling him up from his work. His elbow knocks the bottle of ink, spilling the black liquid across the desktop.  
  
_“Honestly,_ Aurora.” He snaps, sending her a glare, but freezes at the look on her face.  
  
“What has happened?”  
  
“Mother found out. She went to the Minister and no doubt made up all sorts of lies, and he will not grant me divorce, will not hear of it. Add to it, when I argued with her, she threw me out. Said she’d call the authorities if she ever saw me in this house again. She’s forcing me to go back to Theo.”  
  
He sighs quietly. “You had best listen to her, then.”  
  
She gapes at him in disbelief. “After everything I’ve told you, after everything you’ve seen, you’re just going to side with her, and make me go back to him? To my ever-loving husband, who will likely beat me within an inch of death, if not kill me, for what has happened?”  
  
He drums his fingers on the desktop, then reaches for a cloth to begin to mop up the ink.  
  
She watches him in stunned silence for a long moment, then hurls the first object she can reach at him, which happens to be the crystal ashtray on the table beside her. He looks up just in time to duck, and it shatters against the wall behind him.  
  
“What in Merlin’s bloody name— Aurora, knock it off!” He yelps as a wine glass follows, breaking with a tinkling of glass.  
  
She slides down the wall to sit on the floor, her knees tucked up to her chest as she begins to cry. Altair, seeing his mother’s distress, begins to wail as well, and his tears make her sob harder.

 “Take your son!” She screams at Lucius, who is shocked by the entire display, but reaches for the baby, managing to soothe him somewhat.  
  
“I can’t believe you.” She manages to calm her tears enough to spit at him. “To think, I thought I loved you. You won’t even stand up to your wife. Pathetic.”  
  
She swipes haphazardly at her face. “How long until she calls Theodore, and he shows up here? Not that it matters, he knows this is the only place I have to go.”  
  
There’s a sharp knock at the office door, and Lucius glares in its direction.   

“Come on. Up.”

He drags her to her feet with his free hand, still cradling Altair. Taking his handkerchief from his pocket, he pushes it into her hands, before stalking to throw open the door.

Narcissa pushes her way in, sending a disgusted look at the baby.  
  
“Honestly, Lucius. Why do you have that thing? You know, she told me it wasn’t Theodore’s child.”  
  
“Yes, I know.”  
  
“I suppose you know who the father is, as well.”  
  
“I do.”  
  
“Our daughter, a whore. Who knew? She was such a nice girl when she was younger. Now she’s having other men’s children and spouting about divorce.” Narcissa shakes her head.  
  
_“Me,_ a whore? What, and you’re not? We all know that when you say you’re on trips with friends, you’re with a lover. You’re not exactly subtle, mother.”  
  
Narcissa jumps at Aurora’s words, evidently just noticing her standing there.  
  
“Why are you still here?” She jabs an accusing finger at her. “I told you clearly you were to get out, did I not?”  
  
“You were screaming about something, yes, but I stopped listening after you told me my husband owned me. I refuse to listen to such blatant stupidity.”  
  
“Again! Watch your tongue, child!”  
  
“Narcissa, stop it.” Lucius snaps. “Weren’t you having lunch with someone today? Please, don’t let us make you late.”  
  
“Oh.. Yes, of course. I’d forgotten.”  
  
She leans up to plant a kiss to his cheek, which he passively tolerates.  
  
“Do something about.. them, though.” Narcissa motions to Aurora and Altair with a disgusted flick of her fingers, then waltzes from the room.


	17. Chapter 17

Aurora trails along behind her father, hurrying to keep up with his determined strides.   
  
“Care to tell me where exactly it is that we’re going?” She asks bitterly.   
  
“Almost there.” Is the only answer she can get, and she sighs. They’re in a part of Muggle London that she doesn’t recognise, the streets lined with historic buildings, shops covering the ground floor, with flats above.   
  
Lucius turns into an alley between a book shop and a café, opening a door and ushering her into a stairwell.   
The stairs open onto a wide hall, and he unlocks the door on the right, closing the door behind them as she looks around in surprise.   
  
It’s a modest flat in size, but decorated richly, and she pokes around the small sitting and dining area, then the kitchen.   
  
“You will stay here.” He says simply, and she arches an eyebrow in his direction.   
  
“Why do you have a flat in Muggle London, exactly?”  
  
“I stay here when I have business in the city other than a normal workday. And when I need to get out of the manor. It’s a nice little place, I think.”  
  
She peeks out the curtains of one of the tall windows at the busy street three floors below.   
  
“Yes, it is nice.”  
  
He pokes through the kitchen. “We shall need to buy a few items. I would not recommend leaving here without myself or Draco accompanying you.”  
  
“Oh, but I’m to have tea with Hermione on Thursday.”  
  
He eyes her sideways. “You should be safe enough with her, but I would suggest Apparating to your meeting place directly. I will send Draco to bring Altair to the Ministry while you are out.”  
  
She nods in thanks.   
  
“You will not, however, under any circumstance, tell anyone where you are staying, and that includes Miss Granger. You must keep in mind that you may be being watched. There are charms over this place that ensure even those with magical blood cannot get in without the key, but you must be careful, Aurora.”  
  
“What am I to do, in the meantime?”  
  
“There are any number of things here to keep you mildly entertained. It will not be for long. I have a meeting with the Minister on Wednesday.”  
  
“Mother doesn’t know about this place, does she?”  
  
“No, no one else knows of its existence. You shall be safe here.”  
  
“Theo is going to come after me, father. I know he will. I’ve been gone for three days now.”  
  
“I do not doubt he will be trying to find you, Aurora. But this flat is very well protected, by both magical and Muggle means. So long as you do not leave its protection without an escort, you will be safe from him.”  
  
  
  
Nudging the grey curtain away from one of the tall living room windows, Aurora peers out, settling Altair on her hip. Lucius has informed her the windows were one-way, so no one strolling past on the street below would be able to see her or any movement within the flat.   
  
She glances over the Muggle shops across the road, finding a mid-range jewelry store, an antiques shoppe, and some kind of generic restaurant with a large outdoor area with shaded tables and chairs. Said restaurant was bustling with the lunch rush, and the patio was full with patrons, every table occupied. She amuses herself with observing the Muggles at the restaurant and those sauntering the streets, doing a bit of shopping over the lunch break.   
  
She was seriously considering disguising herself and going out for a bit, as she was horribly bored. The flat was equipped with a television and a selection of Muggle videos to choose from, and Lucius has provided her with nothing less than a library’s worth of books on all subjects, but still she is bored.   
  
Bored bored bored.   
  
The highlight of her week had been going to tea with Hermione, but that had been on Thursday, and it was now Wednesday. Draco had come by on Thursday to take Altair, then had come again on Saturday afternoon for tea and a visit, but he hadn’t been able to stay long. Lucius hadn’t been by since Thursday night, when he’d brought Altair home, but had just given her a quick kiss, unable to stay for longer than a minute.   
She hadn’t spoken with another adult since then, and she was tired of the endless task of keeping Altair entertained. She needed conversation, even in the most basic of forms.  
  
Sighing, she takes Altair, who has finally fallen asleep, into the sitting room, and tucks him into his little crib. He’s been so fussy lately, suddenly refusing to sleep through the night, and it was driving her nuts.   
  
Returning to her mindless people-watching, she noticed the lunch rush had begun to die down, the street not quite as busy as people returned to work. Would it be safer to go out when it was busy, more people to blend into the crowds, or when it was slower, so less people would potentially see her?   
  
Making up her mind, she goes to her closet, digging through it until she finds a simple coloured top and a plain skirt. The less noticeable, the better. Employing some simple Disguise Charms, she alters her appearance slightly. Her platinum hair turns a curly chocolate brown, her grey eyes a bright hazel. Glancing in the mirror, she frowns a bit, then alters her skin to be a bit darker than the signature Malfoy porcelain.   
  
Satisfied, she checks again to make sure Altair is sleeping soundly, tucking her wand and the portable baby monitor into her skirt pocket. He’ll be fine for half an hour, and she’ll hear him if he wakes. She’s just going to go down to the street, anyways.   
  
Slipping the key on its ribbon around her neck, she tucks it away in her shirt after she locks the door carefully, slipping quietly down the stairs and out into the shadowy alley. She sidles up to a group of three chattering women as they passed the alley’s street entrance, effectively blending in case any was watching, ensuring they wouldn’t easily be able to tell where she’d come from.   
Not that it mattered, no one had so much as spared the flats so much as a second glance in the several days she’d spent watching.   
  
Stepping into the book shop, she’s greeted by an enthusiastic young clerk. He seems to be about her age, a bit nerdy looking in a button-up shirt and black glasses, but thoroughly friendly, and she chats with him for a bit about some Renaissance literature. 

 She’d kept a bit of Muggle money in her purse, thankfully, and was able to purchase a few new books from him. Something about him seems a bit different, she decides, and she wonders if he’s a wizard. No doubt a Ravenclaw, if he was, and very good at blending with the Muggles.   
  
“Oh, I wonder, do you have any books on magic?” She asks him before she turns to go, and he blinks at her.   
  
“What sort of magic?”   
  
“Oh, you know. Fantasy magic, I suppose. Not black magic.”  
  
“I— I do believe I have some spellbooks, if that’s what you mean.”   
  
He’s giving himself away, and she smirks faintly as he rushes off towards the back shelves, producing a stack of dusty books.   
  
She takes them gratefully and sorts through them, pausing at a very familiar book.   
  
“Standard Book of Spells, Grade Six?” She asks, glancing up at him with an arched eyebrow, and watches as he goes white.   
  
“Didn’t think they allowed Hogwarts textbooks in Muggle shops.” She adds, and he gapes at her, then sighs heavily.   
  
“That book shouldn’t be on the shelves.”  
  
“No, it shouldn’t, but I’ll save you the trouble and buy it. I don’t have any of my schoolbooks anymore and I could use the practice.”  
  
“So you are a witch. I’ll admit I suspected you were.” He says with a small smile, which she returns.   
  
“As I suspected you were a wizard. What’s your name?”  
  
“Eddie Carmichael, ma’am.”  
  
She smiles softly, but pauses as he asks hers in return. She can’t very well tell him either Malfoy or Nott, in thinking of her safety, and she thinks quickly.   
  
“Hesper Prince.” She replies smoothly, relieved as he shows no signs he doesn’t believe her. “Slytherin.”  
  
“Really? We seem about the same age, but I don’t remember that name. But then, if you were a Slytherin, it’s possible our paths never crossed, as I was a Ravenclaw.”  
  
“It’s possible. I graduated this last year.”  
  
“Ah, that would be why. I would have been two years above you, then.”  
  
They chat about Hogwarts for a while, before a group of women enter the shop, and he has to go off to assist them. Aurora promises to come back soon, though, and he waves with a parting smile as she leaves.   
  
  
She explores the antiques shoppe and the jewelry store without significant event, and, seeing the crowds have significantly dispersed now, ducks into the café after checking the baby monitor to make sure all is well and quiet.   
  
Satisfied Altair hadn’t yet missed her presence, she orders a cup of tea, snagging a newspaper from a stack near the door as she chooses a sunlit table near the large window, glancing over the headlines to observe what was happening in the Muggle world.   
  
Her tea comes presently, and she sips at it. Isn’t amazing, but she can’t complain, as it isn’t horrible, either. She’s been spoiled on exotic imported tea, she supposes, and it has turned her into a bit of a tea snob.  
  
The chair at the table next to her scrapes the floor as it’s pulled out, and she glances up, then freezes, peering over the edge of her newspaper, as she recognises all too well the man who’s just sat down, appearing not to have yet noticed her there.   
  
  
Raising the paper to hide her face, she groans internally. If he notices her, she’ll be in horrible trouble, for sure. But she can’t move, as leaving would be a surefire way to attract his attention, so she sits unmoving and hopes for the best.   
  
His tea comes, and she observes him as stealthily as she can, watching as he sips at it. The look on his face shows he seems to draw the same conclusion about it that she has.   
  
  
Turning the page of her paper, he glances up at the flutter of noise, then gives what she recognises as a very over-exaggerated look of surprise.   
  
“Miss Prince, how lucky to find you here! Your department Head told me you were out for the afternoon, and I had been hoping for a word with you today. I have some important documents to go over.”  
  
Clearly, he’s mistaking her for a coworker for the Ministry, but then again, he’d used the same fake name she’d given to Eddie in the book shop. A coincidence?   
  
She squints at him in confusion, but he frowns slightly, and she plays along, brightening falsely.   
  
“Why, Mr. Malfoy! What a surprise to run into you here. No one said anything to me about you trying to see me, but of course the office has been _dreadfully_ busy this week. What can I assist you with?”  
  
He glances over her nearly-empty cup.   
  
“Well, if you’re about finished with your tea, perhaps you’d accompany me back to the office? I have the files there as I didn’t expect I’d end up seeing you today.”  
  
“Of course, sir, ready when you are.”  
  
  
He rises gracefully from his chair, opening the door for her as he ushers her out to the street.   
  
“So what is it exactly that you’re looking to go over?” She asks, and he pauses their stroll down the street.   
  
_“Honestly,_ Aurora. Did you listen to nothing I said to you?” He snaps angrily, and her eyes widen.   
  
“What— I— how did you know?” She demands, and he sends her a look of almost disgust, gripping her arm, his long fingers digging into her flesh painfully.   
  
“Did you really think that I wouldn’t be able to recognise my own daughter, even disguised as you are? Although without Polyjuice, all you did was change your colourings. Your face is still the same, darling, and I expect you should be rather grateful I came in when I did.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Did you not notice the man at the counter?”  
  
She vaguely remembers the man that had been at the stool near the register. He’d had dark hair, but that was all she could conjure up.   
  
“Not really.”  
  
He sends a brief glance over his shoulder as they walk, and suddenly pulls her onto a side street, dragging her against his side as they apparate.   
  
Appearing in the hall outside the flat, she clings to him, gasping.   
  
“What the bloody hell was that for?” She demands, and he glares at her, withdrawing a key from his pocket and unlocking the door, then all but throws her inside the flat.  
  
“You are _horribly_ unobservant, Aurora.” He snaps. “You know you are not to leave this flat, and that is a prime example why!” 

“What, because you’ll come along and find me in a tea shop? Honestly, what was the harm? I’ve been so bloody _bored_ lately that I couldn’t stand it.”  
  
  
“What was the _harm?”_ His voice is rising in anger. “The _harm,_ Aurora, is that man at the counter, that you were _too distracted to notice_ , was _Theodore Nott!”_ He yells, and she freezes, staring at him in shock.   
  
  
“It— that was— Theodore?” She whispers, and he grits his teeth, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he forces himself to calm. A whimper from the crib shows his shouting has awakened Altair.   
  
_“Yes,_ Aurora. Just sitting there. But he was watching you read your paper— for all your ‘disguises’, he still could have recognised you nearly as easily as I did.”  
  
She runs for the windows, tearing the curtains open and staring wild-eyed down into the street. Almost no one is nearby anymore, and she’s about to turn back, when she notices a lanky figure exiting one of the shops across the street.   
  
Bloody hell. She’d recognise that form anywhere, even without seeing his face.   
  
“You know for sure he knew who I was?” She whispers.  
  
“He was staring at you for a while. If he didn’t know for sure, he suspected.”  
  
She bites her lip so hard she tastes blood, and glances back at her father in fear.   
  
“Aurora, if you cannot be trusted not to wander unescorted, I shall lock you up in here. I fear for your safety, now more than ever.”  
  
“He’s plotting how to get back at me, I know he is. It’s bad for your image for your wife to walk out on you, and take what the world thinks is your only heir.”  
  
“I know, Aurora.”  
  
“Have you met with the Minister yet?”  
  
“I have.”  
  
“And?” She demands, shocked he hasn’t come to see her sooner.   
  
“The initial meeting went exactly as you expected it to. Your mother’s doing.”  
  
 _“Fuck.”_  
  
“Language, darling.” He replies smoothly. “I have another appointment to further argue your case to him, but that is not until Friday.”  
  
“I’m meeting Hermione Granger for tea again on Friday afternoon.”  
  
“I will send Draco over again to bring him to my office to be looked after while you are gone.”  
  
She nods, returning to her watching of the street.   
  
“If I leave you here, are you going to go running off outside again?”  
  
“Not without Polyjuice Potion, with Theodore down there somewhere.”  
  
“Which you do or do not have?”  
  
She glances back at him with a dry smirk.   
  
“No comment.”  
  
“Aurora..”   
  
His eyes are dark with irritation, and she glowers, turning swiftly to fix the blanket over Altair in his crib, but strong arms wrap around her waist, lifting her up before she can reach him.   
  
“What are you— put me down!”  
  
“Don’t make me have to spank you again, Aurora. Promise me you won’t leave this flat.”  
  
“Don’t you dare. That’s what started all this in the first place.”  
  
“It’s not my fault you were aroused by me punishing you.” He replies, sounding offended, and she flushes red. 

 “Liar. You did it on purpose.”  
  
“I did not. I’m your father, Aurora!”  
  
“Well clearly that didn’t make too much of a difference, given you Polyjuiced a prostitute into me and fucked her!” 

“I don’t know what you’re inferring.” He sniffs, his long fingers digging into her sides.   
  
“Let go of me!”   
  
She begins to struggle violently, and his grip tightens. She begins to scratch at his hands with her fingernails in attempt to prevent him from crushing her ribs, and he sighs, carrying her across the room and dumping her unceremoniously on the armchair.   
  
“What in Merlin’s bloody name is your problem?” She demands, reaching back to slap him, but he catches her wrist, smirking down at her.   
  
“Claws _in,_ you hellcat.”  
  
She makes a disgusted noise and twists her wrist from his loose grasp, storming into the kitchen.   
  
“When did you say your meeting with the Minister was?”  
  
“Friday.”  
  
“Yes, but when?”  
  
“One. Why do you need to know this?”  
  
“Curiosity.” She spits, plopping back in the armchair and burying her nose in a book, ignoring his further attempts at conversation.   
  
“Act like a child, and you warrant a child’s punishment..” He finally warns her quietly, and she throws her book at him, but a flick of his wand sends it sailing harmlessly away.   
  
“What’s gotten you so riled up?” He questions curiously, and she scowls at him, but doesn’t speak, and he sighs in irritation.   
  
Kneeling on the floor in front of her, he stares at her calmly until she can no longer meet his gaze and looks away, folding her arms petulantly, but he pushes her skirt up around her waist and buries his face between her thighs, and she tangles her fingers in his silky hair, moaning loudly as he expertly draws her pleasure from her.   
  
  
  
Friday morning, Aurora finds the bottle of Polyjuice potion she’d hidden in her dresser drawer, adding a hair and taking a drink, then inspects her change in the mirror. She’d turned herself into a random Muggle woman that had left a hair on her coat sleeve when she’d been down to the street; perfectly innocuous.   
  
Bundling Altair into his coat, she gathers him up, along with her bag, and leaves the flat, heading for the nearby train station.   
  
The Polyjuice Potion wears off just as she’s entering the Ministry, and she heads for her father’s office, leaving Altair with Draco.  
  
Finding the Minister’s office on the upper floor, she straightens her jacket and walks in, smiling at his secretary.   
  
“Good afternoon. Do you have an appointment to see the Minister?” The woman asks her brightly.   
  
“Yes, I do. Malfoy.”  
  
“Ah, yes. Please take a seat, the Minister will be with you shortly.”  
  
  
  
Five floors below, Lucius steps into the main office to speak with Leda, and is surprised to see his son scribbling on a parchment with one hand, while holding baby Altair on his lap with the other.   
  
“Is Aurora here?” He questions in surprise, and Draco glances up.   
  
“Yeah, just stopped in a few minutes ago.”  
  
“What is she doing here?” He asks, irritation colouring his voice, and Draco shrugs, still writing.

“She said something about having a meeting, she’d be back in a bit.”  
  
A meeting? He glances at his watch, and sees it was five minutes to one. She wouldn’t dare..  
  
Dropping the papers on Leda’s desk, he stalks from the office, heading for the lift.   
  
  
  
“Miss Malfoy?”  
  
Aurora looks up as the secretary speaks.   
  
“You can go in, now.”  
  
She smiles faintly and sweeps past, opening the office door and closing it quietly.   
  
Fudge looks up as she closes the door, and frowns. “Aurora Nott. The appointment was with your father, I thought.”  
  
“Oh, it was. I took the liberty of attending in his place.” She replies dryly, taking the chair opposite his desk before he can object.   
  
“Now, Minister. I’d be very interested to hear what lies my lovely mother has fed you, that would cause you to listen to nothing even my father has to say.”  
  
“Lies, Mrs. Nott? She told me no lies, only that you ran away from your husband, taking his son and a portion of his money with you.” Fudge replies nastily, and she arches an eyebrow.   
  
“Ah, but those _are_ lies. Perhaps it is true I fled my husband’s house, but it was because he routinely raped and beat me, and I’d had enough.”  
  
She passes a hand over her face, removing the spells that hide the yellowing bruises on her face.  
  
“As for the matter of his son, it is not ‘his son’, only mine. He is not the child’s father.”  
  
The smug look has slipped from Fudge’s face, and he’s looking rather grey. “And the money?” 

“Why would I take his money? I have my own, my family is rich in their own right. I have no use for Theodore Nott’s money.”  
  
“Why would your mother say these things?”  
  
“Marriage is forever, even if your husband abuses you, duty to your husband, all that. She’s furious I would dare to utter such a dirty word as ‘divorce’.”  
  
Fudge stares at her for several minutes, lips pressed tightly.   
  
  
“It’s uncommon I would grant a divorce to a Pureblood couple, given it is, as you say, a taboo thing. However, given the physical abuse and rape, I shall grant you an exception.”  
  
  
She stares at him in surprise, and he smiles dryly.   
  
_“Innocens ego sum a sanguine iusti huius vos videritis.”_   
  
“A wise move.” She replies bitterly. “I suppose if he killed me, it would look bad that you knew about it and did nothing.”  
  
“Quite right, my dear.” He replies, taking a parchment and beginning to write up the divorce papers.   
  
  
The door is suddenly opened, and they both look up to find Lucius in the doorway, looking absolutely furious.   
  
Oops.  
  
“Aurora, what in Merlin’s name do you think you are doing?”  
  
“Taking matters into my own hands.” She snaps, and he scowls at her.   
  
“Lucius, old chap. What was it you needed to discuss?” Fudge asks, quill still scratching across the parchment.   
  
“Clearly, it’s no longer needed.” Lucius replies, voice flat of emotion, but Aurora can see the anger burning in his eyes.  

What is he so angry about? She’s got her divorce orders, one would think he’d be happy for her.   
  
  
Emerging from Fudge’s office, she rereads the page in excitement  
  
 _I, Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic, do hereby grant Aurora Hesper Nott, née Malfoy, divorce, from her husband, Theodore Jameson Nott._   
  
Her eyes scanned that line repeatedly, a wide grin on her face.   
  
The rest of the papers included a divorce petition letter, which would need to be served to the Notts.   
  
  
“Don’t even. I took Polyjuice potion before leaving the flat.” She snaps as her father follows her out after a moment, still looking irritated.   
  
“I’d certainly hope so.”  
  
“Yes. Now, if you don’t mind, I have divorce papers to serve.”  
  
“I’m not letting you go alone.”  
  
“No, I didn’t think you would.” She replies shortly. “Shall we?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Latin phrase Fudge speaks is a verse from the Bible, Innocens ego sum a sanguine iusti huius vos videritis, and translates to "I am innocent of the blood of this just man". (Matthew 27:24)


	18. Chapter 18

The front door of the Nott Manor creaks open an inch, a house elf’s wide eyes gazing up at her. She’s made Lucius wait out of sight, ready to step in should anything happen, but allowing her to deal with Theodore herself.  
  
“Theodore. Is he here?” Aurora snaps.  
  
“Master Theodore is here, yes.” The elf mutters squeakily, “But has given Blinky instructions not to allow Mistress Aurora back into the Manor.”  
  
“I don’t _need_ to come into the Manor. Just get him to come to the door. Do whatever you must to convince him, Blinky, even if you have to drag him. I give you permission to use your magic if you must.”  
  
The elf has still addressed her as Mistress, obviously Theodore hadn’t thought to strip her of that title with the elves, and therefore the elf wrings her hands nervously, pulling at her ear as she thinks over the possible consequences of disobeying Theo, but in the end, apparently decides the kindness Aurora had shown her while living there was enough to win her loyalty, and disappears back into the house.  
  
She hears Theodore long before she sees him, berating the elf, who is evidently having to drag him.  
  
“Let _go_ of me, you stupid creature!” He spits as the door is shoved open, and Blinky beams up at her as Theodore finally pries her little fingers from his wrist, shoving her back into the house.  
  
Blinky has evidently dragged him out of bed to come downstairs, and she looks him over with a frown as he scowls back at her. His dark curls are messy and hanging in his bleary, shadowed eyes, and he’s shirtless and barefoot, although he’s apparently been allowed enough time to struggle into his trousers.  
  
“Decided to come back, did you?” He snaps, and she scowls at him.  
  
“Not on your life, Theodore. I came to give you this.”  
  
She shoves the parchments into his hands, and he shoves his curls from his face irritably as he squints at it.  
  
“You faked court documents?” He asks with a harsh laugh. “You know that’s illegal, Aurora.”  
  
“They’re not faked. I’ve come straight from the Ministry.”  
  
“Like hell you did.” He replies, suddenly strangely calm, and glances up, meeting her gaze steadily as he slowly shreds the document into small pieces.  
  
“Nice try, Aurora. Now. Why don’t you come in, and we’ll have a chat about all this?” He offers, but that glint of gold is in his dark eyes. Sure, she’d come in. When Hell itself froze over.  
  
“Why were you following me the other day?” She demands, and he blinks at her, suddenly looking genuinely confused.  

“What? I wasn’t following you.”  
  
“We were in the same café in a far off Muggle suburb of London, Theo. That’s too close for coincidence.”  
  
He just stares at her, eyebrows furrowed.  
  
“Er— where?”  
  
“Waltham Abbey?”  
  
“You were there?” He asks. “I had a meeting there and I did go to a café, but I never saw you.”  
  
“My father was there, Theo. There’s no way you could have missed him.”  
  
“I saw him, sure. But I have nothing to say to your dad, figured he was out to kill me anyways after you ran off, so I tried to keep my distance. He didn’t notice, anyways, he was talking with some lady from the Ministry.”  
  
“That was me, Theo.” She replies flatly. “Disguised.”  
  
“Really.” He looks faintly amused, but not surprised, at this revelation. “You’d have been standing right next to me, then. I didn’t even notice.”  
  
“I don’t believe you, but I’ll act as I do.”  
  
“Suit yourself, Aurora. I don’t particularly care what you do anymore.” He says, shoving his hands in his pockets.  
  
“Why’s that?”  
  
He shrugs. “I’ve got mine, you’ve got yours. We’re both happier now, I think.”  
  
“Got what?” She questions skeptically, and he shrugs faintly.  
  
“Partners, kids. I’ve got Daphne and my daughter, you’ve got your son, and your dad.. Seems better this way, anyways. We both knew from the start we weren’t going to be happy together.”  
  
“I knew. You were determined to make it work, regardless.”  
  
“Yeah, because I made the mistake of listening to my parents. Thought that was how life worked.”  
  
“What made you come around?”  
  
“You did.” He replies honestly. “I’ve done a lot of thinking while you’ve been gone. And I see that my parents were wrong, that I was wrong.”  
  
“I’m glad you see that. And I hope you treat Daphne better.”  
  
“Yeah..” He replies faintly, avoiding her frown. “She’s finally accepted having a kid, and she’s better about taking care of her.”  
  
“Good. She was completely insane for a while, there.”  
  
“She was.” He replies bluntly. “I guess she’s come around, too. Anyways. Are you going to come in so we can talk, or not? I’m freezing.” He complains, scowling over her head at the heavy clouds that have been gathering all morning.  
  
“I suppose..” She mutters, glancing towards the end of the terrace where she knows Lucius was wandering around the gardens at the side of the manor.  
  
“Yeah, he can come in too, if you think you need a bodyguard.” Theo adds, and she frowns at the sarcasm in his voice, but he’s already turned back inside, leaving the door open for her.  
  
She whistles softly and Lucius peers around the edge of the terrace a moment later, hopping the banister gracefully.  
  
“How’d it go?”  
  
“We have more things to talk about, so come in.” She replies, sauntering into the entrance hall.  
  
“Shut the door, it’s bloody cold out!” Theo calls from the drawing room, and Lucius pushes the heavy door closed behind them.  
  
Theo’s found a shirt somewhere, which he’s buttoning up as they go into the drawing room, and he waves Aurora into a chair.  
  
She sits carefully, blinking up at him expectantly until he settles into the chair across from her.  
  
“You know, Theo, you can tear up a paper, but the court date is still set, regardless of what you do with the letter.”  
  
“I know.” He replies mildly. “That was just annoyance.”  
  
“I suppose it is bad form to have your wife file for divorce, at least to Purebloods.”  
  
“Quite right.” He sniffs. “My parents cannot abide bad form.”  
  
She rolls her eyes, but can’t help a tiny smile. This is the Theodore she actually enjoyed being around. The amusing, sarcastic, mildly infuriating man she’d had so much fun with in their temporary truce. He was unbelievably sassy, and she thoroughly enjoyed his sarcasm when it wasn’t directed at her.  
  
He grins at her for a moment, then sighs, drumming his fingers on the armrest.  
  
“I won’t fight you on it, Aurora. But. I’m sure you already know that there are matters involved in our marriage that are hard to absolve, and as they were not our dealings to begin with, it’s up to our parents to dissolve them. Which will be extremely difficult.”  
  
“I know.” She replies with an internal groan. “Money, mostly, it seemed like.”  
  
“Money, yes. But also land, some of which has since been sold, and other political matters that I don’t know the specifics of.”  
  
She starts to respond, but he cuts her off.  
  
“Therefore, it may be easiest to come to some sort of agreement instead.”  
  
“Like what?” She asks suspiciously.  
  
He sits forward, sending a glance at Lucius, who’s stationed himself at the fireplace mantle.  
  
“Well, clearly you aren’t trying for a divorce so you can marry someone else. Incest is accepted amongst Purebloods, but it’s still not legal to marry a direct family member. Besides, he’s already married.”  
  
Lucius is scowling at Theo’s words and looks like he might object, but Aurora glares at him and he doesn’t speak.  
  
“Daphne has no interest in marriage. Therefore, we don’t have an outside problem. Ask him how he lives his marriage, Aurora. It seems fairly similar, just your mum doesn’t have a public lover.”  
  
“Yet.” She snaps, and Lucius glares at her. “Aurora.”  
  
“What?” She shoots back. “Look us in the eyes and tell us we’re wrong, father.”  
  
“You’re not, but you do need to respect her, Aurora. May I remind you that your mother and I also did not marry for love, but for money and politics.”  
  
Theodore nods in agreement, and Aurora shrugs.  
  
“So what do you suggest?”  
  
“Drop the divorce. It’s more work than it’s worth. We’ll still be legally married, but you can come and go as you please, you don’t even have to live here, you can be at your Manor. All we have to do is maintain some form of public image. Nothing drastic. Parties here and there. Nights out. Things like that.”  
  
She gazes at him for a long moment, thinking.   “So a separation, you mean.”  
  
“In essence, yes.”  
  
She glances at Lucius, who is scowling, but sends her a resigned look of _‘he’s your husband, that’s your decision’._  
  
Helpful.  
  
“I suppose, Theo.”  
  
  
  
When they finally leave the Nott manor, Aurora heads decisively for the train station.

“You know, we _do_ have at least three forms of magical transportation that could be utilised here..”  
  
“Walking a half mile to the station won’t kill you. Besides, I like taking the train. Gives me peace to think.”  
  
She glances over her shoulder at him, finding him sauntering along behind her, his eyebrows pinched in thought. Shaking her head, she steps onto the platform, checking the train schedule posted on the wall.  
  
“Next train is to Central London.” She comments. She doesn’t expect an answer, and doesn’t get one, as he’s seated himself resolutely on one of the benches, squinting absently in the sun reflecting off the metal rails.  
  
Sighing, she sits next to him, but he doesn’t acknowledge her, and they both sit in silence until they hear the piercing scream of the train whistle approaching the station.  
  
The platform is soon obscured in steam as the engine grinds to a stop, a few bedraggled Muggles exiting the train cars.  
  
For nearly half an hour neither of them say a word, and she finally sighs heavily, drawing his attention with the noise.  
  
“What’s the matter with you?” She finally asks, and he scowls at her implication that something is wrong with him, but doesn’t reply. She rolls her eyes and tucks her legs up to sit cross-legged on the seat, and returns to gazing out the window.  
  
“I’m thinking about what Narcissa will say to this latest turn of events.” He says a good five minutes later, and she blinks at him, taking a second to remember the question he’s responding to.  
  
“Why should you care what she says?”  
  
“Because, Aurora, we’ve already experienced what exactly Narcissa thinks about your ‘situation’, without adding this to the mix. Cressida Nott is her best friend, Aurora. They’ll be plotting something. They’re both meddling schemers, you’ve no doubt noticed.”  
  
“That I have.”  
  
He lapses into stony silence again, but this time, his gaze is focussed levelly on her.  
  
“What?” She finally snaps, and the tiniest of smirks quirks his lips, but he remains silent as she scowls expectantly back at him.  
  
“I’m distracting myself from thinking about your lovely mother.” He finally says, his voice heavy with sarcasm.  
  
“How so?”  
  
He smirks, his gaze dropping from her face.  
  
“Mainly by realising that I can see up your skirt with you sitting that way.”  
  
Her eyebrows arch at this admission, but she’s not entirely surprised.  
  
“Don’t start that here. We’re in public.” She murmurs, watching the scowl that mars his face from the corner of her eye, but he doesn’t contest her, and they lapse into silence again until the train pulls into the station.  
  
~  
  
“I’m having tea with Hermione again on Friday.” She announces, watching a sneer curl his lip, even as he tries to hide it.  
  
“Again?”  
  
“Yes. Why do you hate her so much?” She asks with a frown, and he glares at her in disbelief for a moment.  
  
“Miss Granger is a smart-mouthed little chit, who sticks her nose far too deeply into other’s business, cannot control her temper or her mouth, and has the most sanctimonious attitude I’ve ever seen.” He rages, and she stares back at him with a scowl.  
  
“She is also highly intelligent and thoroughly friendly.”  
  
He snorts. “To you, perhaps. Surprising she’d “deign to befriending a Malfoy”, as she once put it to me concerning the possibility of having to have business relations with Draco.”  
  
“Hermione and I were friends at school, father. Which she did only after she confirmed I had no interest in bullying her the way Draco or _you_ did!” She spits back, watching the flash of fury that crosses his face with a little stab of self-satisfaction.  
  
“You were _friends_ with the Mudblood?” He hisses, and she gains even more pleasure from nodding. He’ll go apoplectic soon, if she keeps it up.  
  
He sneers and shakes his head. “And you call yourself a Malfoy?” He mutters, turning away as she yelps indignantly at his words. He must know her too well, as he smoothly ducks the glass she pitches at the back of his head without looking back at her.  
  
“Honestly, Aurora. You must learn to control your temper. I’ve spent far too much replacing the glasses you’ve broken already.” He says, and she doesn’t need to see his face to picture his smirk, as he stoops to scoop up the shards of the glass from the wood floor, then snaps for a house elf to come mop up the wine that’s spattered everywhere.  
  
“Like you couldn’t afford to replace a few wineglasses. Don’t be so pompous.” She snaps at his back.  
  
“Don’t have another tantrum, dear.” He replies calmly as the house elf appears, rag in hand, and bows to clean up the mess. “You’ve become far too sensitive about such matters.”  
  
“Would you prefer I resorted to my childhood ways of dealing with arguments?” She retorts, and a wry little grin flits with his mouth.  
  
“What, getting into scrapes with your brother and his friends?” He chuckles to himself. “Coming in with your lip split and arms all scratched up— but I doubt Vincent Crabbe ever bothered you again.”  
  
“He did not.”  
  
He looks her over quietly for a moment, humour in his eyes. “And this is how you intend to settle this dispute with me, is it? I would advise against that, my dear.”  
  
“You must be joking. Do you really think I’d do such a thing? Draco is one matter, but you? Although I suppose it factors in whether or not you’d be willing to hit me back..”  
  
His grin is unsettling as he looks steadily at her for a minute. “Do you really think I’d resort to Muggle fist fighting with my daughter?”  
  
“I’m not entirely sure I know what you’d do if I struck you.” She admits truthfully, and he appraises her calmly for a moment.  
  
“I don’t believe I know what I would do, either. I will, however, suggest against trying it for the sake of mere curiosity.”  
  
She simply smirks at him. “What am I to do, now?” She abruptly changes the subject, and he blinks at her.

 “Concerning?”  
  
“I am now ‘separated’ from my husband. Your lovely wife has stated I am no longer welcome here. Where am I to go?”  
  
He sneers in frustration. “Narcissa does not have the authority to ban you from this house. It is not hers to do with as she likes. You may stay here if you wish, otherwise I will continue to grant you use of the flat in Waltham Abbey.”  
  
She gazes curiously at him for a long moment. “And which would _you_ prefer I do?”  
  
His frustration breaks for a moment for him to smile gently at her. “I would prefer to always have you with me. But the flat is available to you should you wish to avoid your mother.”  
  
His words take her by surprise, and she manages to smile back at him, her first true smile in a long time.  
  
  
“I’ll stay.”  
  
  
~  
  
  
Malfoy Manor was a monstrosity. Several floors of seemingly endless corridors of rooms. One could easily get lost in the unused portions of the house, and she had, several times.  
  
The house had purportedly been given to the family in the 1200’s by the royal family. It was not, in essence, a magical house, but having been occupied by constant wizarding blood for centuries, magic had pervaded it. A house this old contained secrets still undiscovered, or carefully hidden from sight.  
  
There were six people living in the Manor now. Barely enough to even scratch the silence that settled over the mansion. The cold marble cushioned sound here, preventing it from carrying through the stone halls. Even baby Altair’s cries couldn’t be heard further than a few doors away.  
  
The silence was both oppressive and comforting, in a way. In her youth, during the War, the silence had filled everyone inhabiting it with a sense of foreboding. Silence was the calm before the storm. But now, with the Dark Lord gone, the silence was peaceful. After the screams and curses and spells firing that filled the nightmares of those who fought, it was peaceful.  
  
Silence was peace.  
  
  
“Aurora?”  
  
  
The voice shatters the quiet and she jumps, her book dropping from her hands and hitting the marble floor with a reverberating clatter. She grits her teeth, diving after it.  
  
“What?” She demands abrasively, and his footsteps cross the room to sit in the armchair across from her.  
  
“What is wrong?” He asks, taking the book from her hands and placing it carefully aside.  
  
“Thinking about the War.” She mutters, and he sighs.  
  
“The Dark Lord is gone, Aurora.”  
  
“That doesn’t mean I can’t still feel it. This whole house is still pervaded with the feel of dark magic. I can still hear Bella’s insane laughter in the corridors.”  
  
She looks away, her eyes slipping closed.

“I can still hear Hermione’s screams from the drawing room.”  
  
  
She’s gathered in his arms and pulled into his lap before she can react, but simply curls into the warmth.  
  
“I know.” He mutters. “I hear it too.”  
  
“Why did you do it?” She asks quietly. “Why did you join him? And drag us into it?”  
  
He sighs heavily, stroking a strand of her pale hair from her face.  
  
“I was younger than you are now when I started associating with the Death Eaters. All my school friends were. It was expected of us, and my parents encouraged it. Your grandfather was part of his inner circle during the first War.”  
  
“And you also agreed with what he wanted.”  
  
He is silent for a long moment, his hand resting gently on her cheek.  
  
“Yes. I agreed with the Pureblood ideal and keeping magic in Wizarding families.”  
  
“And you still do.”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“The wars haven’t changed your opinion on it?”  
  
“Should it have? No, it has not. Just because your side lost a war does not make the winning side automatically right. It only means they were stronger.”

 _Fair enough._  
  
  
He sighs as she lapses into silence, kissing her forehead, and she sits up a bit.  
  
“Why is it so quiet? Where is everyone else?”  
  
“Draco and Astoria are visiting her parents for the weekend. And Narcissa is— somewhere.” He looks momentarily puzzled, then shrugs faintly.  
  
“Italy, maybe? I don’t know. With friends.”  
  
“With her lover.” She corrects him with a scowl, and he gazes pensively at her for a moment.  
  
“Yes.” He finally concedes, and she sneers faintly.  
  
“She has the audacity to remark on my behaviour, then turns around and cavorts about with a lover.”  
  
“She’s always been like that, even when she was your age.” He comments, and she shakes her head.  
  
“She’s a whore, is what she is.”  
  
“Aurora..”  
  
“Why do you insist on defending her?” She snaps. “She doesn’t love you, clearly! Don’t waste your time!”  
  
The dark look that flickers across his sharp features is enough for her to see that was clearly the wrong thing to say, and she pushes away from him, retreating to the desk against the wall and snatching a glass and a decanter from the collection there.  
  
“If you start throwing things again—“  
  
“I won’t! Honestly.” She interrupts with a scowl, and he returns the look.  
  
“Don’t you dare presume to speak to me in such a manner, Aurora. You know nothing of the relationship between myself and your mother. We were engaged while we were still in school. She was fifteen years old, I was seventeen. We were both seeing other people at the time, could care less about petty engagements. But we married upon her graduation. Discretion is something we learned from a young age. When you marry for duty rather than love, you are bound to stray.”  
  
“Mother clearly isn’t very good at this so-called discretion, then. She’s sleeping with Edward Flint, isn’t she.”  
  
He gazes at her with a small frown, and she gives him a grim smile of triumph.  
  
“That was interesting, to say the least, when, in an argument with Marcus Flint, he reveals that my mother is sleeping with his father. If he knows about it, given he is likely to be the least observant person I have ever met, she’s clearly being rather flamboyant about it.”  
  
“Aurora, just stop.” He murmurs, taking the decanter from her hand. “Leave it be.”  
  
“She’s a whore!”  
  
“And she is still your mother!”  
  
Giving a small scream of frustration, she storms from the room, gaining a large satisfaction from slamming the door behind her.  
  
  
Muttering curses to herself under her breath, she goes down the hall to the nursery to check on Altair, finding him to be sleeping peacefully in his crib. He wriggles a bit in his sleep, and she takes a moment to watch him and his still features. He’s an exact copy of his father.  
  
Sighing, she rubs at her temples. What in Merlin’s name is she supposed to do with this? Hopefully he wouldn’t have inherited her temper, along with the Malfoy stubbornness. Praying he would be more like his father. At least Lucius had the quality of patience, rather than impulsive anger. For the most part, at least. She’d seen him angry on occasion and it was not a pleasant thing.  
  
  
“I’d hoped, that when you got older, you would have outgrown your _insolence.”_  
  
  
And there was that anger. Reaching down, she strokes Altair’s downy pale hair, not looking back at him.  
  
“You say that. But where do you think _I_ got it, _father?”_  
  
Apparently her mouth is in revolt today, as that’s the second thing in less than an hour she instantly regretted the moment it came out.  
  
“Aurora..”  
  
She straightens, her back still to him, and her fingers tighten on the handle of her wand at her side.

 

Almost instantly, she’s knocked flat on her arse by a spell, unable to move bound by invisible restraints.  
  
His silky chuckle reaches her ears, and she silently fumes, as the spell has provided an unseen gag as well.  
  
“Oh, you silly little witch. Thinking of cursing me? A bad choice.”  
  
She scowls up at him as he saunters over, plucking her wand from her hand.  
  
“You are clearly in need of being taught a lesson, my dear. I am quickly running out of patience with your temper.”  
  
Her gaze darts towards the sleeping baby, and a smirk quirks the corner of Lucius’s mouth.  
  
“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t wake him.”  
  
He reaches out, popping the buttons of her blouse open horrendously slowly. Her gaze follows his movement, and he trails his fingertip down her collarbones, between her breasts, across the flat of her stomach. Her blouse it suddenly ripped from where it’s tucked into her skirt, pulled from her body and tossed aside, forgotten.  
  
“Tell me, darling, have you ever experienced sexual magic?” His voice is low in her ear, and she scowls at him pointedly.  
  
“Oh, yes of course.” He looks amused as the magical gag is suddenly removed, and she licks her lips, eyes clouded with frustration.  
  
“Answer me, darling..”  
  
“No.” She mutters, and he smirks in delight at this revelation.  
  
“Oh, my dear, you’re missing out. It’s such fun to use, to torture someone with. Spread your legs.”

“I can’t, you idiot! You’ve tied me up!”  
  
He laughs aloud at this. “Claws in, little witch.”  
  
Her binds are removed but for an instant, and she finds her hands tied behind her back to be her only remaining restraint. She resists the urge to kick him as she reluctantly parts her legs.  
  
He’s surprisingly gentle as he removes her shoes and skirt, but she sees the slow burn in his eyes and knows when he finally gets to her, he’s going to be anything but gentle.  
  
He leaves her stockings on, tracing his fingertip over the band of lace at the top, his smile quickly becoming darker as he leisurely flicks his wand at her.  
  
A gasp escapes her lips as the spell hits her, her eyes widening and dilating, and he smirks, rising to his feet and retreating to a chair across the room to watch her.  
  
The spell intensifies, leaving her with the feeling of being inches from orgasm, but not quite allowing it, and she tips her head back against the wall, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip until she tastes blood. Her legs are quivering, and she knows she’s ridiculously wet, her teeth gritted to keep from making a sound.  
  
“Are you quite finished with the attitude, Aurora?” He asks, and she gazes at him blankly, her lips parted slightly, but can’t speak, a whimpering moan the most coherent form of speech she’s capable of.  
  
She ignores the satisfied look he gives her, and the charm is suddenly lifted. He rises and saunters back over, kneeling between her legs to rub the pad of his thumb over the soaked fabric of her underwear.  
  
She whimpers, and he slips his fingers under the waist, tearing the fabric apart slowly and rather smugly, and they too are abandoned.  
  
His fingers catch her chin and tilt back, forcing her to look up at him, and she blinks at him for a moment.  
  
“Please..”  
  
“Why should I? You were terribly rude to me not long ago.” He taunts her, and she rolls her eyes, licking her dry lips.  
  
“Because you want to, that’s why. I know you do. I’m not going to argue about it.”  
  
“Fair enough.” He replies, amused, and grasps her ankle, tugging sharply until she’s splayed flat on her back. She winces as her still-bound hands are jammed against the marble, but suddenly the binds are released, and she reaches for him as he moves to hover over her, grasping at the buttons of his shirt. A few pop off in her haste to get them open, which he passively tolerates, shrugging the shirt off, but bats her hands away when she reaches for his belt, undoing it himself.  
  
His free hand pushes roughly against her collarbones, pinning her flat, and he smirks down at her as he presses the head of his cock against her center.  
  
“I want an apology, Aurora.” He murmurs, and she scowls at him.  
  
“Why, because I was mean to you? Did I hurt your feelings, and now you have to go pout in the corner?”  
  
He arches an eyebrow at this, rolling his hips forward, and she moans.  
  
“Fine. I’m sorry.”  
  
“No you aren’t.” He responds in amusement. "You're just pretending."  
  
“I’m not really even doing that, to be honest.” She mutters, yelping as he lowers his head to sink his teeth into the delicate skin on her neck.  
  
“Aurora..”  
  
“Alright, alright. I’m very sorry. Please do forgive me.”  
  
He smirks against her skin. “Liar.” He murmurs, but finally, _finally_ flexes his hips forward, beginning to push into her.  
  
He smothers her moans with his kiss, pushing in so unbearably slowly that she can hardly take it, but then he’s settled in and she’s so full and it’s just been so _bloody long_ since the last time.  
  
He’s decided to torture her at first, but clearly now even he can’t take it anymore, and has given up the charade of gentleness as his thrusts pick of speed and force until it’s all she can do to cling to him tightly.  
  
He curses under his breath, sliding a hand into her hair and clenching his fingers in it tightly, and she whimpers, then screams as she rides out her orgasm. He barely slows as she clenches around him, his fingers digging into her waist so hard she knows she’ll bruise, and he cries out as he finds his release, her name slipping clumsily from his lips.  
  
She lays her head back against the cold marble, her eyes fluttering closed as he drops his forehead to her chest, his quick breaths tickling her skin.  
  
“I’m sorry.” She finally whispers, and he chuckles breathlessly.

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think that's the last she'll see of Theo, you're wrong.


	19. Chapter 19

“Should I be concerned that there’s blood all over the floor?”

Aurora gingerly steps away from the dark puddle on the marble, then scowls at Lucius.  
  
“Not unless it’s yours.” He replies easily, setting his book aside.  
  
“No, it is not mine. Whose is it?”  
  
“Not yours, therefore not your concern, my dear.”  
  
“It became my concern when I stepped in it. What have you been doing?”  
  
“Cleaning. Evidently not well enough.” He sighs, snapping his fingers for a house elf, who comes bearing a rag to clean up the mess on the floor.  
  
She folds her arms and glares at him, holding her ground as he attempts to move around her and leave the room.  
  
“Aurora, dear..”  
  
“Father..” She retorts accusingly, and he scowls, turning her around and shoving her from the room in front of him.  
  
Depositing her in the hallway, he stalks past her, heading for the staircase.  
  
“What the hell have you been doing now? Don’t tell me you’ve gotten back into your old ways already. You’ve barely managed to keep yourself out of Azkaban, as it is.”  
  
Stopping in his tracks, he turns back to her impatiently.  
  
“Which old habits, exactly, are you accusing me of?”  
  
“Torturing muggles and mudbloods, I’d assume? Why else would there be blood everywhere?”  
  
His lips purse into a thin line, and he glances past her, back into the room. The house elf has finished and disappeared, gone with it are all traces of the blood.  
  
“What blood?” He asks her with a wry little smirk, then turns on his heel and disappears up the stairs.  
  
  
  
Fucking hell. Two years since the War. Two bloody short years, with their family avoiding ruin by a hair. Lucius had escaped a life sentence in Azkaban with his diplomatic ways, charming the wizarding world into believing he was not at fault. The Malfoys had abandoned the Dark Lord during the Battle of Hogwarts. Evidently three months of this argument at trial had been enough.  
  
Ever the aristocrat, Lucius had worked tirelessly at redeeming their family name in the aftermath of the war by throwing exorbitant amounts of money into various charities and cleanup efforts. In Harry’s world. A world controlled by the light and their stupid rules and ideals.  
  
Aurora had never quite agreed with the concept of eliminating Muggles and Muggleborns completely like the rest of her family. Or at least in Hermione’s case. She’d always liked the loud-mouthed Gryffindor, for some reason.  
  
Seeing her lying on the floor of their drawing room, Bellatrix carving the slur deep into her arm, while she screamed bloody murder, had rather been a slap to the face to her.  
  
Aurora had never felt much while she watched the Dark Lord, or the other Death Eaters, kill and torture Muggles and others she’d never seen before. She’d even done some of it herself. But it had been different to watch a friend be on the receiving end. She’d avoided her aunt as much as she could after that event. Thank Merlin she was dead, now.  
  
Lucius was always one for torture. Why kill someone right off, when you could have fun with it instead? He and Severus were always together, inventing new torture spells and poisons. She’d watched them practice on occasion. Once Snape had discovered she had a proficiency for potions, he’d recruited her in assisting with their experiments.  
  
Somehow, the Ministry hadn’t paid much attention to her during the Malfoy trials. Likely because she’d put on an innocent face and cried whenever someone tried to interrogate her, making a scene until Lucius or another official would come to her aid and berate whichever poor Ministry worker bee had been assigned to them for harassing her.  
  
He’d vouched for her innocence on the stand, as well. She’d never been innocent. She hadn’t been branded as a Death Eater, she hadn’t wreaked havoc on the Muggle population, but she’d aided those who had, and had never tried to stop them.  
  
  
“Are you holding Muggles prisoner in the basement again?”  
  
  
He jumps, evidently not having heard her come into his study, then stares at her in irritation.  
  
_“No,_ Aurora. There are no Muggles in the basement.” He mutters, going back to whatever he was writing, and she scowls at him.  
  
“What?” He finally asks with a sigh, looking up at her again.  
  
“Why won’t you tell me?”  
  
“The less you know, the better..”  
  
“You’re going to end up in Azkaban.”  
  
“No, I am not.” He replies shortly. “Leave it, Aurora. It is not important.”  
  
“But—“  
  
“Aurora!” He shakes his head in frustration. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready?”  
  
“What for?”  
  
“That bloody gala tonight. You said you wanted to attend.”  
  
“Shit. I forgot that was tonight. Yes, I want to go.”  
  
“Then you’d better hurry..”  
  
  
A convenient excuse to get her out of his study. She grumbles to herself under her breath as she hurries to put her hair up. He was hiding something, something big. She sighs. Wonder which poor fool was the latest victim of her father’s hexes.  
  
  
He seems to forget his vexation with her when he sees her ready to go, his gaze lingering on her curves beneath her dress. The ice blue silk hugs her body like a second skin.  
  
She takes a moment to revel in the appreciative gaze, but still scowls at him, and he rolls his eyes.  
  
“Really? Are you going to behave like this all night?”  
  
“Until you tell me.”  
  
“You’ll be waiting a long time.”  
  
“Father, please.” She catches his hand, turning him back to her, and she gazes up at him, her grey eyes wide and vaguely frightened.  
  
“Did you kill someone?”  
  
He stares down at her silently for a long moment.  
  
“Would you sleep easier if I told you no?”  
  
“Not if it’s a lie.”  
  
He sighs heavily. “Then yes. I did.”  
  
She closes her eyes for a moment, heart heavy, but takes his arm.  
  
“Thank you for finally being honest.”  
  
He glances down at her, seeming relieved to have placated her, however temporarily it might be, as they apparate.  
  
The gala is some charity fundraiser, collecting money to support orphans of the war. More of Harry Potter’s policy changes and society “transformations” that their family is being forced to support as a show of good faith. As if.  
  
“Aurora!”  
  
She looks up sharply, but a slow smirk begins to spread over her face as she sees the blonde waving at her.  
  
Luna Lovegood. Or Looney Lovegood, as many had called her at school. They’d been in the same year, different houses as Lovegood was a Ravenclaw. She was very— eccentric. But she thoroughly believed in finding the good in everyone, Aurora included. She’d been good company at Hogwarts, even if she was a little crazy.  
  
“Hello, Luna. How are you?” She asks politely, surprised when the blonde embraces her tightly, leaving the heady scent of orange blossoms in her wake.  
  
“Oh, I’m good. Isn’t this a lovely party? There’s so many people here.”  
  
“Anyone interesting?” She asks, amused, as Luna turns to appraise the crowd with her misty gaze.  
  
“I suppose. Harry is here, so is Neville, and the Weasleys.”  
  
“Are they?” She asks faintly, glancing around. She’d never gotten along with Harry. She’d been acquaintances of the twins, but they’d been a bit wary of her given her surname. The only one she would say she’d been friends with was Ginny, since the redhead hung around with Luna often.  
  
Maybe she should mention this to Lucius. Her being friends with a Lovegood and a Weasley, in addition to Hermione Granger, would certainly drive him up a wall.  
  
A hand grazes over her back, and she glances up. Speak of the devil. Lucius stares down at Luna with a faint sneer.  
  
“Miss Lovegood.” He greets her stiffly, but if Luna takes offense, she doesn’t show it, beaming up at him.  
  
“Oh, hello Mr. Malfoy.”  
  
He gives her a frosty smile in return, his palm suddenly digging into Aurora’s back and forcefully guiding her away. Aurora manages to turn back and send Luna an apologetic smile, who waves happily, looking unperturbed by the Malfoy’s abrupt departure.  
  
“What in Merlin’s name was that?” She demands as soon as Luna is out of earshot.  
  
“I don’t think I want anyone to do with Xenophilius Lovegood near my family.” He mutters, and she scowls up at him.  
  
“What’s wrong with Luna? She’s a bit unorthodox, I’ll give you that, but she’s very nice.”  
  
“And that matters why?”  
  
“Why? Father, you were horribly rude to her.”  
  
“I doubt she even noticed.”  
  
“That doesn’t give you an excuse to be terrible to her.”  
  
“Hmph.” He scowls, and she stares up at him for a long moment. He’s still acting oddly.  
  
Taking his hand carefully, he looks at her sharply, but the look softens slightly as he sees her looking vaguely alarmed.  
  
“I’m sorry, darling.” He apologizes softly, ducking to press a kiss to her forehead. “Come, there’s some people I want you to meet.”  
  
  
His bad mood is less pronounced as he introduces her around, but she can tell he has simply put up a mask of indifference to hide behind. The gala is beginning to wear on even her patience, however, and she knows he must be internally steaming. There is a common mood of barely-concealed resentment from those around them, and it’s irritating. Forced to attend and contribute to their stupid funds, while judged on all sides for doing so. Bloody pointless. Her fingers tighten slightly on his arm, and he glances down at her to find her biting back a scowl, but it’s starting to show, and she knows it.  
  
Her teeth catch her bottom lip and pull it into her mouth in attempt to stifle her expression, and she looks up at him. His breath catches faintly, but he frowns, tossing his long hair back and glancing away.  
  
“Quit biting your lip, darling, it’s very distracting.”  
  
That catches her off-guard, and she gives a startled smile, tugging on his arm to wander off to find a waiter, many of which have been perusing the crowds with trays of drinks. If she’s going to be expected to stay much longer, she’s going to need one. More than one.  
  
Finally finding one, she plucks two flutes of champagne from the tray, passing one to Lucius, who accepts gratefully, likely drawing the same conclusion she had.  
  
“If I have to endure this for much longer, I’m going to hex someone.” She mutters to him out of the corner of her polite smile, and he smirks.  
  
“I did warn you.”  
  
“I am very much regretting not listening to that.”  
  
“You’re actually admitting I’m right?”  
  
“Don’t get too used to it.” She mutters, setting her now-empty glass aside and glancing up at him, licking her lips. “There’s too much hostility here.”  
  
“Such is the price we pay for being on the losing side of a war.” He replies easily. “We can leave soon. However I have a few people I need to still speak with.”  
  
She pouts at him, and he frowns, sending her a look that clearly says _“behave”_.  
  
Gritting her teeth, she dutifully follows him about the ballroom as he converses with several people, smiling in introduction when necessary, but avoiding speaking as much as possible, lest she say something regrettable. She settles for watching him instead. She’s certainly not the only one dressed for the occasion. His robes likely cost more than the dress she’s wearing— and that’s saying something. He’s wearing all black, causing a sharp contrast with his pale skin and blonde hair. In a moment of narcissism, she sees where she gets her looks from. Lucius Malfoy is a devilishly handsome man; even she wouldn’t be afraid to admit that.  
  
He finishes his conversation suddenly, and she’s dragged from her thoughts, looking up at him blearily.  
  
“Tired, darling?”  
  
“We’ve been here for nearly four hours.” She mutters in response. “I’m exhausted and fed up with these people.”  
  
“I know.”  
  
He takes her hand, pulling it through the crook of his elbow again.  
  
“Is there a reason you were staring at me that entire time?” He questions curiously, and she sighs.  
  
“I was just thinking.”  
  
“About?” He eyes her sideways as he apprehends another waiter for more glasses on champagne.  
  
“About you kissing me.” She replies softly. “About your hands on my body and you in me and fucking me and making love to me.”  
  
His eyes widen slightly, but he hides it quickly.  
  
“Careful, darling. You may want to stop that before I forget how to be a gentleman. Which has already not been easy, with you in that dress.”  
  
She smiles faintly. “Can we please go home now?”  
  
“In a hurry?” He asks, amused, and she scowls. He’s taunting her.  
  
“I should like to go to bed. Stay if you like. Go enchant some more witches with your charm and get our name back in everyone’s good graces. I have, regrettably, reached the end of my rope. Goodnight.”  
  
She smiles dryly and apparates before he can retort, appearing in her bedroom.  
  
  
A few quick charms lock and soundproof the room, and she kicks off her shoes, wondering how long it will take him to follow her. Either he will appear within seconds, or several hours, leaving her to fume while he makes her wait. She bets on the latter.  
  
It appears, eventually, that she’s right, as two hours come and go with no sign of him. She wonders briefly if he’s already come home and gone to bed, but she knows he won’t go without a confrontation.  
  
It’s nearly four in the morning when she hears the familiar crack of apparation, and she rolls her eyes. Finally. She’s still in her gown, laying on her bed, thankfully turned away from him so he can’t see.  
  
“I thought you only had to talk to a few people.” She mutters, rolling over to look at him, her eyes narrowing as she takes in his slightly dishevelled appearance. His dress robes have been removed, draped over his arm, and his shirt is slightly untucked, his tie askew, hair slightly mussed.  
  
“What happened to you?” She questions, and he glances down, then shrugs. “Had to make a quick stop on the way.”  
  
He tosses the robes over her armchair, crossing the room to her bed, as she sits up a bit.  
  
“Where’d you go?”  
  
“It’s not important.” He mutters, sitting on the edge of her bed and reaching for her. She allows him to lean down to kiss her, but a sudden realization at his proximity makes her freeze, then bring her hands up to his chest to shove him violently away.  
  
He stares at her, shocked at the reaction, and she glares at him.  
  
“You smell like sex. So I will ask you again. Where were you?”  
  
His lips part slightly in surprise, then he purses them together tightly.  
  
“I told you, it is not important.”  
  
Her teeth grit together as she gazes furiously at him.  
  
“Get out.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“I said _get out_. How dare you?”  
  
“What have I done now?” He mutters with a sigh, and she sits up fully.  
  
“What have you _done?_ You insult me by coming to me like this. Smelling of sex and another woman’s perfume. Get out!”  
  
He stares at her blankly for a long moment before a sneer begins to curl his lip.  
  
“It’s not exactly as if we’re promised to each other, Aurora.”  
  
That one bites, and it hurts. Fine. Two can play at that game. They’ve known it for far too long, anyways.  
  
“No, you’re right.” She lays back down, turning back onto her side and away from him.

  
  
“You are my father. Nothing more.”

  
  
She regrets the words the instant they leave her lips, but she’s too proud to go back on it. The damage has been done, in any case. After an agonisingly long moment, she hears him stand, his footsteps crossing to the door.  
  
“I’m sorry I kept you awake.” He mutters, before the door opens, closes, and she’s left in a horrible, lingering silence. Never before had such simple words cut so deep. She stares at the wall in shock after he’s gone.  
  
_What have I done?_  
  
A sob tears from her throat, and she presses a hand to her mouth, her tears staining the silk of her sheets as she begins to cry harder than she can ever remember doing.

 _I’m so sorry_  
  
Her heavy sobs leave her gasping for breath, her head aching and eyes burning, feeling as though she’s choking, until she can cry no longer.  
  
_I didn’t mean it, any of it_  
  
Swiping at her wet cheeks with the back of her hand, she rises, yanking her dress off and tearing it in the process. Throwing it aside, she finds a simple shift in her wardrobe and pulls it on, slamming the doors shut with a reverberating crash. Drink. She needs a drink.  
  
Turning towards the door, she trips over the armchair, grasping to keep her footing, and her hands come away full of rich, heavy fabric. He’d left his dress robes there. She drops them quickly, rushing for the door and going downstairs at a near run, shoving open the door to the drawing room and crossing to the bar against the wall. Strongest drink they had.  
  
Snatching up a bottle of firewhiskey, she dumps an excessive amount into a glass, spilling it in the process, and knocks back half in one go. It burns like hellfire, but dear Merlin, it helps.  
  
_I’m sorry_  
  
She drinks the rest, immediately refilling the glass, her hand shaking as she trembles with sobs. It hurts to cry when the tears don’t come, but she shakes still, disgusted with how pathetic she sounds. It’s really rather lucky the rest of her family isn’t home. She must look even worse than she sounds.  
  
Her third glass is difficult, her hands shaking so badly she can barely get it to her lips. Whether it’s the crying, the alcohol, or a combination of the two, she doesn’t know. Her vision is swimming. Merlin, this stuff is strong. Who cares, though. She’s going numb. Good. Numb means she can’t feel the pain. The glass slips from her fingers and shatters on the floor, and she resorts to drinking straight from the bottle.  
  
_I didn’t mean any of it!_  
  
Fuck, drinking felt good. The stuff was vile but left a warm, tingling feeling in its wake.  
  
Another drink.  
  
_Why?! Aurora how could you be so stupid?!_  
  
There’s footsteps in the hallway, no doubt coming to investigate the breaking glass, and her fingers tighten on the bottle. Only one other person in the house.  
  
Another vicious sob tears from her, and she swipes again at her face, trying desperately to wipe away some of the tears.  
  
_I can’t let you see me like this_  
  
Cold fingers cover hers, prying the bottle from her grip, and she’s too weak, or too drunk, to resist.  
  
He holds up the bottle, his eyes darting to her incredulously when he sees how much is gone.  
  
She turns away, hiccuping on another sob.  
  
_I was wrong, it was me. I’m so sorry_  
  
He gathers her up, carrying her back upstairs to her room, but it seems disconnected. She finds no warmth being in his arms.  
  
_“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry….”_ She manages to choke out between sobs, but he doesn’t respond. He meets her swimming gaze once, his eyes cold, as he deposits her in bed and pulls the blanket over her, leaving her, without a word, to the misery of her thoughts.  
  
“I’m sorry..” She whispers to the empty room as her consciousness begins to fade.  
  
If she doesn’t have him, she has nothing.  
  
  
  
  
She finds the alcohol burns twice as much coming up as it did going down, and she sits shivering on the cold marble floor of the bathroom, once again crying her eyes out. Merlin, she’d really fucked up, this time.  
  
The door opens, but she’s too weak to care. Let him yell at her. Anything is better than his frosty silence.  
  
“Good god, Aurora. What happened?”  
  
She looks up as it’s not Lucius’s voice, but her brother’s, and she sniffles.  
  
“Don’t bother, Draco..”  
  
“Are you drunk?” He questions, and she sighs.  
  
“Not anymore..”  
  
“How much did you have?”  
  
“Dunno. Half a bottle of firewhiskey.”  
  
“All at once?!”  
  
“Yeah..”  
  
He plunks down on the floor beside her.  
  
“What happened?” He questions again, softer this time.  
  
“I wanted to not feel anything.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because I was stupid. I said things I shouldn’t have and fucked everything up. And lost everything.”  
  
Draco tries to goad details out of her, but she presses her lips together firmly and refuses to say anything else. He finally gives up, leaving her to her misery with a promise to check on Altair as he leaves.  
  
Altair.  
  
Lucius’s son.  
  
She struggles back into her room, finding Lucius’s dress robes still on her armchair. Taking them, she wraps herself in them like a blanket, then goes back to bed, engulfed in the soft fabric and the scent of his cologne. How could things have gone from perfect to horrible in such a short amount of time?  
  
  
  
  
She spends the next few weeks absolutely miserable, only having seen Lucius once in passing as she went to check on Altair. He looks as though he intends to speak, but thinks better of it, sending her a faintly wounded look before he disappears.  
  
It’s hell being in this house without his companionship. Draco and Astoria are in and out, but Astoria’s baby is due soon and they’re spending increasingly more time at her parents' house, anticipating their child’s arrival. Narcissa has been strangely nowhere to be found, but it’s a welcome relief.  
  
She’s thought about taking up drinking again, but doubts her body can handle it. Ever since that night, the feeling of being disgustingly sick hasn’t gone away, likely because of her wallowing in self-pity and refusing to eat properly. She spends half her time in the bath, the rest of the time in bed. She’d left her rooms once to move Altair and his crib from his nursery to her room so she wouldn’t have to leave again. She cries more than her baby son does. It’s pathetic, really.  
  
She stands before the mirror after undressing for the bath, examining her figure critically. She’s lost weight the last few weeks. But at the same time, she hasn’t..? Her hands come up to her waist. She’s shifted weight around, is what it is. She’s gained it on her stoma— _fucking hell._  
  
She dives for her wand.  
  
“No, no, no, no, no, no..” She mutters under her breath as she struggles to remember the spell. The pale greenish light appears and she pitches her wand across the room with a scream of frustration, falling to her knees and burying her face in her hands.  
  
_Shit._

 


	20. Chapter 20

It takes over an hour to stop her fresh wave of sobs and to compose herself. Of all the bloody things that could make a situation worse, this one is above and beyond.  
  
Spitting curses under her breath, she dresses quickly, her bath abandoned, gaining such satisfaction from banging things about and generally making as much noise as possible, to make sure anyone else that might be in the house knew exactly how displeased she is.  
  
Altair is not pleased with this, and screams like a little howler monkey in his crib, adding to her mood. She snatches him up out of the crib, settling him on her hip and bouncing him around until he calms himself. A snap of her fingers brings her house elf, and, giving Tippy instructions to keep the baby occupied, she apparates from the room.  
  
  
Staring up at the imposing marble columns before her fills her with a sense of foreboding, which she shrugs off. Things have been reconciled now. A timid house elf comes to the door when she knocks, allowing her into the sitting room before trotting off.  
  
She looks around for a moment. She’d never been able to appreciate the beauty of this manor. It was different from hers, not nearly as old, but no less opulent.  
  
“Aurora?”  
  
She looks up at the soft voice, finding a bleary-eyed Theodore standing in the doorway. She must have woken him.  
  
“What are you doing here?”  
  
He pads barefoot across the room to take the settee across from her.  
  
“I need your help.”  
  
“With?” He eyes her curiously.  
  
“You said before something about being seen in public together. To remind that we’re still married.”  
  
“Yeah..” He sits back, squinting at her. “Why?”  
  
“There’s a Ministry gala tonight.”  
  
“And you want to go?”  
  
“I need to go. I need to be seen with you.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“I’m pregnant. Again.”  
  
He stares at her for a moment.  
  
“What time is the gala?”  
  
“Eight.” She replies, relieved as he sends her a reassuring smile.

 

Theodore cuts a striking figure in his suit and dress robes, and she’s sure she’s quite as imposing in her black ball gown and dark makeup. The gala is as tedious as the last, she could care less about it, but the more people that see them together, the better. The amount of glares and looks they’re given is staggering, but Theo seems unperturbed, so she puts on a smiling face and they act the part of a married couple in love, Theo even going so far as to pull her out to dance and kissing her in front of the crowd.  


  
“Merlin, Ministry galas are so mundane.” She complains as he unclasps her necklace, returning it to its box on his dresser.  
  
“You wanted to go..” He replies, sending her a little grin when she scowls at him.  
  
“Shut up. I hate these events. Kissing up to the “light side” and ending up having to donate copious amounts of galleons to their stupid causes.”  
  
“A lament of all those on the losing side of the war.” He answers mildly, removing his robes and draping them over the end of his bed.  
  
“How can you act like it doesn’t bother you?” She demands. “Bowing down to them?”  
  
“It doesn’t.” He replies, amused. “I did not take significant part in the war, and therefore its outcome does not greatly affect me.”  
  
She scoffs, and he’s smirking faintly as he turns her around, undoing the buttons on the back of her dress for her.  
  
“Don’t let it bother you, Aurora.” He murmurs close to her ear, his fingers finding the pins keeping her hair up and removing them, letting her hair spill down her back.  
  
She exhales slowly as his hands skim down her arms before he turns away. He’s acting so differently again. He must be bipolar, it’s the only explanation for his behaviour. She’s missed him— at least when he’s like this. When he’s rational.  
  
“Rory?”  
  
She startles from her thoughts as he addresses her by her old nickname, realising she’s frozen while undressing. She sends him a sheepish look and he gives her a knowing smile as he unbuttons his shirt and tosses it aside, then reaches out to loosen the laces of her corset.  
  
“Where’s Daphne?” She asks quietly.  
  
“At her parents’ manor, with Astoria.” He replies a moment later, finishing unhooking her corset, and she pulls it off, glancing back at him over her shoulder.  
  
He’s still standing close behind her, his fingers flexing at his sides, but he’s waiting for her to make the first move. He knows why she’s still there. Why she hasn’t just changed and apparated back home.  
  
Lucius can feel free to do as he likes. Therefore, she will as well.  
  
She kisses him before she has time to regret it, her fingers tangling in his dark curls as he grasps her waist, his tongue questing entrance to her mouth.  
  
He knows it’s just passion, perhaps he even knows it’s revenge more than anything, but if he cares, he doesn’t voice it, simply satisfied to let her push him back onto his bed and take what she wants— what she needs— from him.  
  
She clambers up onto the bed and settles herself on his lap, hands braces flat against his bare chest. His fingers fumble with the clasps of her garters, getting them open and pushing her stockings down her legs, quickly stripping her of her remaining clothing with almost desperate haste.  
  
His mouth presses to her throat, teeth scraping at her sensitive skin and sure to leave marks.  
  
“Merlin, Theo.. Please.” She whispers, and he raises his head, his dark eyes intense.  
  
“Aurora..” His voice is soft in warning.  
  
She insists with a soft bite to his bottom lip, her hips questing down against his, and he muffles a groan against her shoulder, his fingers digging into her waist hard enough to bruise. She grasps his curls, pulling his head back, and he glares at her, a flicker of gold in his dark eyes as he fights her grip. Her lips hover above his, and she smirks slightly as he strains up to kiss her. This is a nice change.  
  
He finally manages to throw her grip, smoothly turning and tossing her onto her back, pulling her legs apart as she huffs, but her irritation is quickly overcome as he rolls over and pins her beneath him.  
  
She whimpers and moans and enjoys herself far more than she should as he takes her, because _Merlin,_ finally getting revenge on Lucius feels good.  
  
  
  
When a house elf wakes them the next morning with breakfast, she snatches up the copy of the Daily Prophet. There's an article on the second page on the Ministry ball, and, as she expected, she and Theo are the stars of the show. Apparently society has gleaned the conclusion she’d hoped for, as the reporter goes on about how clear it is that they’re back together after a spat and are very much in love.  
  
Good.  
  
Theo takes the paper from her and glances over it as she smirks triumphantly. It’s hard not to feel like she’s using him in all this, but he probably deserves it. It doesn’t seem to bother him, anyway, as he sends her a little smile over the paper before going on to read the rest of it.  
  
  
Finally apparating back to the Manor, she scowls up at the marble façade. It’s been two weeks since their falling out. She’s had her revenge. But now, Lucius deserves to know about her pregnancy, even if he’s still avoiding her.  
  
Lucius is going to listen to her whether he wanted to or not.  
  
He isn’t in his study, surprisingly, and her irritation grows the longer she has to search for him. There is no sign of him in the library, the conservatory, or the drawing room, and she peers through the glass doors onto the back terrace, giving a sigh as she spots blonde hair over the back of a chaise.  
  
Twisting the handle, she slips through the door as quietly as possible, tiptoeing out towards him. He’s sitting reading the paper, a glass of scotch in his free hand, his long legs stretched out in front of him. His gaze snaps up from the paper suddenly, and she freezes, still behind him.  
  
“Attempting to sneak up on me?”  
  
His voice is stiff, and she bites the inside of her cheek.  
  
“No. I’ve never been able to.”  
  
“You’re right. You haven’t.”  
  
He glances up at her as she takes a couple steps forward to stand a few feet away.  
  
“Is there something you need? Because I’m in the middle of something.”  
  
He motions vaguely with the paper, and she grits her teeth, a quick glance showing he’s left the paper open to the article on her and Theodore.  
  
“Yes, there is something I need. I need you to shut up for one minute. I know you’re angry. And hurt. I am as well. But be quiet and let me speak, because there’s things you have to know.”  
  
He sends her an indignant look at being spoken to in such a way, but reluctantly shuts his mouth, eyeing her warily.  
  
“Look, I’m sorry. I said things I shouldn’t have and sorely regret. I was wrong. I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to forgive me for it. Perhaps it was the hormones talking. Because I’m pregnant. Again.”  
  
“You—“  
  
He cuts off, staring at her in shock.  
  
_“Shit.”_  
  
She scowls at him. “Hopefully, it’s taken care of. Theo and I attended that Ministry ball together last night, as you’ve no doubt seen.” She motions to the paper. “People have evidently drawn their conclusions from that and there isn’t much suspicion.”  
  
He sets his glass aside carefully, glancing up at her as she’s silent for a long moment.  
  
“Fine. I listened to you. Now it’s your turn to listen to me.”  
  
He rises from his chair.  
  
“Yes, it is true I had been with another the night of that gala. But what you must remember, Aurora, is that I am married. I have a wife.”  
  
“If you expect me to believe you were with _mother_ —“  
  
He cuts her off with a glare.  
  
“Just _listen_ , Aurora. The way to Narcissa’s heart and mind is between her legs. I needed information from her that she was not going to reveal easily. It took some persuading.”  
  
She rolls her eyes, but keeps her mouth shut, disgusted at his words.  
  
“I am truly sorry for hurting you. I was doing what I had to, Aurora. You know our position, therefore you can understand why.”  
  
She glances away, eyebrows furrowed, but she nods faintly.  
  
He reaches for her then, drawing her into his arms and kissing her so sweetly and gently that she wants to cry.  
  
There’s certainly been enough of that over the last few weeks, though.  
  
“You’re really pregnant again?” He whispers against her cheek as he holds her tightly, and she nods faintly.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“When did you discover this?”  
  
“I— yesterday. Why?”  
  
He gives her a pointed look. “Because I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone drink that much Firewhiskey at once. You do realise alcohol can kill an unborn child, Aurora.”  
  
“That was two weeks ago. If I was going to miscarry, I would have done so by now.”  
  
“No more alcohol for you.” He admonishes gently, and she gives a resigned nod.  
  
“I know, I know. No alcohol, no smoking, no apparating. We’ve been over this. No having fun until baby comes.”  
  
He smirks faintly, his thumb caressing her cheekbone.  
  
“You may want to avoid informing anyone for as long as you can hide it.”  
  
“I won’t say anything. The last thing I need is mother finding out.”  
  
He scowls at that mention.  
  
“I’ll deal with her later. She’s gone for the rest of the month, anyway.”  
  
Aurora refrains from asking where Narcissa has gone. It’s pointless, anyway. They all know, more or less, where she’ll be.  


  
They settle back into their routine, somewhat reconciled. Lucius fawns over her, ecstatic that she’s again pregnant with his child.  
  
Thoughts are niggling the back of her mind, though, and she’s hesitant to address them, but finally goes to him.  
  
“You need to establish a distinction. Accept me as your lover, or your daughter. I cannot be both. If you continue to see me as your daughter, someone you shouldn’t be thinking about in that way at all, and also the woman you bed nightly and the mother of two of your children, now, we will do nothing but continue on this endless loop of misconceptions and fighting.”  
  
“Aurora, you know I cannot. It’s not as if we can go out and I can kiss you in public, or discuss you as my lover. Even if you are so, you are still my daughter, regardless of us choosing to disregard that in our private life.”  
  
She scoffs, and he scowls down at her as she stands her ground, her fists clenched at her sides. Muttering curses under his breath, he turns her around before she can blink and shoves her against the wall, ignoring her muffled squawks of protest as he pushes her skirt up around her waist.  
  
“Please, just shut up and let me fuck you. We can discuss this another time.” He mutters in her ear and she instantly stops complaining in favour of moans as she allows him to take her as he wishes.

  
~  
  
  
“What the hell happened to you?”  
  
“I’m fine, thanks. How're you?” He mutters, resting against the white marble of the wall, his legs seeming to slowly give out beneath him, and she grasps his arm, helping him slide down to sit with his back against the wall. Glancing up, she’s horrified to find that he’s left a smeared trail of scarlet in his wake.  
  
“Would it make you feel better if I told you most of it wasn’t mine?” He asks faintly, seeing the shock on her face.  
  
“Not really..” She replies, pursing her lips. “What happened?” 

“It was supposed to be easy.” He mutters as she unbuttons his shirt, peeling the sopping fabric away from his torso to assess him for injuries. “But there wasn’t just one, there were _six._ I’m skilled, but even I have a hard time fighting hexes from six different directions at once.”  
  
“Why were you hexing anyone, at all?” She questions with a frown, carefully prodding a slash across his ribs, and he hisses through his teeth.  
  
“Aurora, I’ve already told you, the less you know, the better. I don’t want to drag you into it.”  
  
“Well, now you’ve just piqued my curiosity.”  
  
He shifts positions with a grimace.  
  
“No, Aurora.”  
  
“You need a Healer.” She points out as he prods the wound on his chest, his fingers quickly soaked with his blood.  
  
“Yes, because just sauntering on into St. Mungo’s like this would certainly not draw any adverse attention. You do it.”  
  
“I don’t know many healing spells.”  
  
“Anything is enough for me to stop losing blood. From there, I can do it myself.”  
  
She frowns at him, but draws her wand, whispered spells staunching the bleeding.  
  
“Do you enjoy constantly searching out ways to get yourself into trouble?” She demands, guiding him to sit forward so she can find the source of the blood on his back.  
  
“I don’t go looking for it, but I daresay I do enjoy befriending it.” He replies dryly, and she stops what she’s doing to scowl at him.  
  
“If this is befriending trouble, I don’t want to see you when you’re an _enemy..”_  
  
_“This_ was a foolish oversight.” He mutters. “I underestimated someone. But the problem is taken care of.”  
  
“You killed someone else?”  
  
His gaze finds hers. “Do you truly wish for me to answer that?”  
  
“Not particularly.”  
  
He sighs, looking quite put out. “So is this one of those times you want me to lie to protect your delicate emotions, then?”  
  
“Only if telling the truth will hurt your even more delicate ego.” She snaps, her grey eyes icy. “Are you afraid to answer me? To admit that you’re back in the habit of killing people? Torturing? I would have thought you’d have changed that habit, given how hard you worked to keep yourself out of Azkaban after the war.”  
  
“I _lied_ to keep myself, my family, out of Azkaban, Aurora. The key importance here is _lied._ If you think anything has changed since the war, you’re not very observant.”  
  
She gazes at him sadly for a moment. “I don’t want you going to Azkaban. Going out and doing things like this is not going to make staying away easy for you, father.”  
  
“I know.” He mutters, unbuttoning the sleeves of his shirt.  
  
She sits back on her heels and stares as he removes his shirt with a wince, using the already stained and torn fabric to mop at the blood on his chest. Satisfied he’s done all he can, he sets the shirt aside, and his cool gaze meets hers.  
  
“Cressida Nott is spreading rumours about us, to anyone that will listen.” He states, and her eyes widen.  
  
“Mrs. Nott? What— why— what is she saying?”  
  
“Apparently she overheard an argument between Theodore and yourself. He said something to you about— what was it.. your “child of iniquity”, I think she said.”  
  
She fails to bite back a scowl, remembering that particular argument. Theodore had been drunk off his arse with Firewhiskey.  
  
“And..?”  
  
“And, she took that to mean the other vague rumours about Altair’s paternity to be true. The public hasn’t seen you with Draco in months, and you’re certainly not as close anymore. But they have seen us. Often.”  
  
“And she’s spreading rumours that you are his father.”  
  
“They’re not exactly rumours, Aurora..” He mutters. “She’s a poisonous, jealous bitch, just like Narcissa. But what’s important is the fact that there’s inquiries. People want it to be proved or disproved.”  
  
“Everyone thinks he’s Theo’s son, though!”  
  
“Theo allowed you to leave him and take the child with you. If he’d really been his son, do you think he would not fight tooth and nail to keep you from taking his heir from him?”  
  
She snaps her mouth shut. Hadn’t thought of that.  
  
“So yes, Aurora, there is a bit of pressure to prove myself. Prove I’m still the man I once was, that I haven’t-- changed my ways.”  
  
“Proving yourself in such a way will get you into much more trouble now, with Harry’s government, than it would have before the War.”  
  
“Don’t have much choice.” He mutters, rising and snatching his torn shirt up. “The alternative is the world finding out about it, Aurora. About us. You’d never be able to show your face in public again after the scandal that would cause.” He warns, sending her a pointed look before he turns to go up the staircase.  
  
She watches him go, apprehensive now. Her options are limited to the entire world knowing their secret and them being ruined for life, or sitting by and watching her father return to his Death Eater ways.

  
The choice is an easy one.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Theodore has a few redeeming qualities. Sorry.


	21. Chapter 21

Aurora gazes passively at her reflection in the glass, adjusting her skirt. Tonight, she must be charming and poised.  
  
The clicking of her heels on the marble staircase echoes in the stagnant silence of the manor. The front door is opened by a house elf as she descends, and she pauses, her hand resting on the cold iron banister, as the man steps into the entry. She sends him a gracious smile as his gaze finds her, and footsteps sound on the stairs behind her.   
  
“Ah, Mr. Davis.”   
  
Her father’s voice is unnaturally warm, and he glances sideways at her as he steps past, continuing down to shake the man’s hand. Lucius introduces her to the man, and she extends her hand with another smile as he ducks his head to kiss her knuckles.   
  
Their dinner conversation is light and casual, thankfully. She would have walked out then and there if they had started going on about politics.   
  
She leaves them to their after dinner cigars and drinks, going to find Tippy to get two glasses and a bottle of brandy. Returning to the room, she pours the drink into the snifters, passing one to their guest, and handing the other to Lucius. His fingers brush hers as he takes it, and she glances down at him, capping the bottle and retreating to leave it on the sidetable, fixing a glass of wine for herself.   
  
Mr. Davis is telling an animated story about his times in Africa, that she can tell Lucius is only pretending to be interested in. She seats herself across from the man, sipping idly at her wine, as Davis takes a large swig of the drink, laughing at his own story. His laugh quickly turns to a hoarse wheeze, and he rises from his chair, tugging at his shirt collar.   
  
“What the—“ Lucius shoots to his feet, grasping Davis’s arm.  
  
“He’s choking!” Aurora exclaims, setting her glass aside. A bit of blood trails from the corner of Davis’s mouth as he gags, his face purpling, and his fingers grasp weakly at Lucius’s shirt as he begins to collapse to the floor.   
  
Lucius lets him fall, giving a disgusted glance at the blood that now stains his hands and shirt.   
  
“Eugh. What did you _put_ in that?”  
  
“Potassium cyanide. A Muggle poison.”  
  
“Cyanide?” He squints at her. “Something wrong with the poison I gave you?”  
  
“Mortemillius? It’s one of the first things they’d look for. This gives the appearance of choking. Wizard Healers aren’t exactly that trained in identifying Muggle poisons.”  
  
“Swift and deadly.” He mutters, taking Davis’s glass. Crossing to the fireplace, he dumps the rest of the contents into the fire, which flare high.   
  
“Like a snake.” She adds, amused.  
  
Opening the window, he pitches the glass out onto the terrace below, followed a moment later with the faint shattering of glass on the marble.  
  
“Suppose we should do something about the body before his blood stains the carpet. I’d rather not get rid of that, too.”  
  
“ _Au contraire_.. _You_ should do something about the body before he stains the carpet. I’ve done my part. I’ll go get a house elf to clean up the stain. You should perhaps have done something with him before we return.”  
  
He rolls his eyes, wiping his hands on his handkerchief. “Go on, then.”  
  
She takes her time heading down to the kitchen to collect a house elf, and true to form, both Lucius and Davis are gone when they return, the bit of blood spatter on the table and floor the only indication anything had happened at all. Leaving the elf to cleaning, she saunters down the hallway.   
  
She’s just murdered someone.   
  
She should feel guilty. Or terrified. Or apologetic. But she’s prideful, that was it. She’s just too proud. Murdering is the alternative to having her secrets exposed to the public. Merlin, they’d probably go to prison for it, knowing Harry Potter. He’d to love to get the Malfoy family for something, for anything.   
  
Too proud for the world to know just how important her father really is to her, and she will do anything to keep the truth from coming to light.  
  
How very Slytherin of her.   
  
Therefore, she keeps her head down and does what she has to. Lucius can take care of himself. She can take care of herself. But she has a son and another baby on the way. Two children who need her, whom she’d do whatever it takes to protect.   
  
Including murder.   
  


“Is it taken care of?”  
  
His voice is low in her ear, startling her from her thoughts, and she whirls around to face him, finding him standing much closer than she’d expected.   
  
“Yes, the elf is cleaning up the mess.”  
  
“Good.” He murmurs, brushing a strand of her hair from her face. “Are you aright?”  
  
She scowls up at him.   
  
“I’m fine. You know the alternative. I’ll get past it. What did you do with him?”  
  
“It’s taken care of. He won’t be found.”  
  
She hums happily as he tugs her gently against him, his mouth dropping to her throat and leaving tickling kisses over her skin.  
  
He scoops her up and carries her to bed, leaving her surprised. They’ve never been together in this room before. On the bed he shares with Narcissa.   
  
“Where is mother?” She mutters, sending him a frightened look, but he only smiles, unbuttoning her blouse.   
  
“Rome. Won’t return until Sunday.”  
  
She sighs, her hands resting over his and stilling his movements.   
  
“She’s going to find out eventually.”  
  
His pale gaze dart to hers.   
  
“Why do you say that?”  
  
“She may be somewhat psychotic, but she’s not stupid. She’s observant. Especially now with Cressida Nott spreading rumours about us, she’s likely to be paying closer attention.”  
  
He scowls bitterly, sitting down on the bed and pulling her onto his lap, his nose buried in her hair.   
  
They stay wrapped together for several long minutes, silent, before his palm slides over the gentle rounding of her stomach, pressing lightly.   
  
“A new little one.. Do you know yet if it’s to be a boy or a girl?”  
  
She pulls back slightly to smile at him, kissing the tip of his nose.   
  
“A girl.”  
  
He fails to hide his happy reaction to her words. “When is she due to arrive?”  
  
“Mid-June.”  
  
He smiles, turning their position so she can lie back on the bed, and pushes her blouse up, kissing her exposed stomach tenderly.   
  
“Pandora.” She says quietly, and he looks up, an eyebrow arched in question.  
  
“It’s a girl. We should name her Pandora.”  
  
He covers her stomach in gentle little kisses, then up her body to kiss her lips.   
  
“Pandora it is.”   
  
They lay in contented silence for a long while, Lucius’s fingertips drawing absent patterns across her skin, before she speaks.  
  
“What had the man done, that you needed to get rid of him?”  
  
He doesn’t speak, glancing up at her with pursed lips, and she sighs.  
  
“Fine. Maybe I don’t want to know what you were up to.”  
  
“When have you ever not wanted to know something?”  
  
She whacks him lightly on the shoulder as he bites back a smirk, but smiles lightly, until there’s hurried knocking on the door.   
  
Aurora exchanges a glance with Lucius, then pulls herself up to cross to the door, finding Tippy there, wringing her little hands.   
  
“What is it, Tippy?”  
  
“It’s Master Theodore, mistress. He’s at the doors. He says he needs to speaks to you immediately.”  
  
Aurora squints faintly at the elf, as Lucius’s hands settle on her shoulders.   
  
“What does he want?”  
  
“It’s Miss Daphne, mistress. He says she’s dead.”  
  
  
  
Tippy takes her hand and pulls her downstairs, to where she finds Theodore in the drawing room, his back to her.   
  
“Theo?”  
  
He glances back at her, running his hand through his curls.   
  
“I’m sorry for bothering you, Rory. I didn’t know where else to go.”  
  
“What’s happened, Theo?”  
  
“Daphne. She’s dead.”  
  
“How?”  
  
“Car accident.” He laughs ruefully. “Funny how Purebloods never take into account that even though they’re magical, they can still be killed by Muggles. And rather easily, as well.”  
  
He turns to sit on the settee, rubbing at his eyes, and she sinks down beside him, taking his hand in both of hers.  
  
“When they told Astoria, the shock forced her into early labour. She’s in St. Mungo’s now.”  
  
Her eyes squeeze shut for a moment, and he wraps her in his arms, his shoulders trembling slightly with repressed tears. She reaches up, stroking her fingers through his curls. It’s odd, but after all they’ve been through, she can give him this small comfort.   
  
“I suppose I should have seen this coming.” He mutters thickly against her shoulder. “After all I’ve done, why should I deserve the chance to be happy? I ruined all hope for that long ago.”  
  
She doesn’t respond, what could she say? She firmly believed everyone deserved a chance at happiness, but a chance was not a guarantee. Someone could ruin all their chances, and then how could they complain?  
  
He finally sits up, his eyes red, but his tears are gone. He sends her a tiny, pained smile, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead, then rises as a faint cry sounds from upstairs, as Altair has woken from his nap.  
  
“Again, I’m sorry for barging in on you.”  
  
“It’s alright, Theo. I am your wife, after all.”  
  
“You should go to Mungo’s, though. Draco’s in all sorts of a state.”  
  
She nods. “I will.”  
  
  
  
Leaving Altair with Lucius, she goes to the station to catch the train to the city, silently cursing her pregnancy for not allowing her to Apparate.   
  
She sits with Draco through the evening, holding his hand as he frets, but the Healer finally announces that her labour has ended and both baby and mother are well. Draco rushes in, and Aurora goes to send for Lucius, who appears not five minutes later, looking harried.  
  
She makes the long journey back home, deciding the last thing Astoria needs to deal with at the moment is another visitor.  
  
  
The next morning, she meets up with Hermione, happy to have some time with a friend for once, both of them trading details of their lives over their breakfast. She’s in a much better mood as she returns home, humming to herself as she goes upstairs to check on Altair, whom she’d left with Tippy, but when she opens the door, she’s greeted by the sight of her beloved house elf sitting on the floor, another elf holding an ice pack to her head, and an empty crib.   
  
“Tippy, what’s happened?” She demands, fear beginning to coil up deep within her at the sight.   
  
“Mistress.. Tippy is watching the baby, see, when there’s footsteps in the halls! No one is to be home, I opens the door thinking it’s Master Lucius when there’s knocks, but then Tippy is hits on the head and everything is black… When Tippy wakes, the baby is gones!”  
  
She rises slowly, eyes blank, and looks to the other house elf.   
  
“Blinky, go fetch Master Lucius. He’s at St. Mungo’s Hospital. Tell him he must come, at once.”  
  
The house elf nods and disappears with a crack, and she sits on the floor beside Tippy, taking the ice Blinky has abandoned and holding it to the nasty bump on Tippy’s head, her eyes welling with tears. Her baby son. Kidnapped.   
  
It couldn’t possibly— it couldn’t be Theo, could it? He no longer has any reason to come after her in such a way.   
  
She sits there thinking madly until there’s a crack downstairs and running footsteps, and as Lucius bursts into the room, the idea finally comes to her.   
  
  
There is only one person who hates her in such a way, who possibly hates her son even more, and who would have nothing to lose from orchestrating such an act, but everything to gain. 


	22. Chapter 22

There was a storm coming. Banks of giant, dark clouds, the look of them reflecting Aurora’s mood. She’d managed to tell Lucius what had happened, and he’d pursed his lips angrily and stormed out, possibly coming to the same conclusion she has, leaving her alone again.

She’d distracted herself in comforting Tippy, stopping the distraught elf from punishing herself for “losing the baby”, assuring her it wasn’t her fault, but when the elf had resigned herself back to her daily tasks, she’d sat on the floor of the nursery, drawing her knees up to her chest and sobbing. Her baby boy was gone.

It was well after midnight when she hears footsteps in the hall, the door clicking open. He slowly sits next to her, neither of them speaking, as she knows from his silence that his search has been fruitless.

“Why would she do this?” She mutters, but he has no response, brushing her hair back as he gathers her in his arms, his lips pressed to her forehead.

 

The next week seems to last an eternity, each day the search for her baby yielding no results.

“She was bold enough to walk into the manor and take him, in broad daylight. Do you think she might come back?” Aurora questions, looking over at him from her perch on his windowseat.

“Why would she come back?” Lucius asks absently, glancing up at her, and she folds her arms.

“To snoop around, spy on the going-ons, try to steal other smaller things to create a nuisance.. I don’t know.”

“It’s possible.” He mutters after a minute, setting his quill aside and capping the ink bottle. “We should lay a trap for her?”

“I think it’s the only way we’re going to be able to _find_ her.” She says with a frown. “She’s hidden herself well.”

“She’s likely with your dear husband’s mother. Apparently Cressida Nott hasn’t been seen in a week.”

“Oh, lovely.” She pauses. “You don’t think Theo is in on it, do you?”

“I think you’d know the answer to that question better than I would.”

“I wouldn’t think he would care enough anymore to do something like that. But I suppose it’s possible.”

 

By the evening they’ve plotted a simple trap, making it known they will both be attending a gala in London. There’s a show of leaving the house and a grand entrance at the party, but once they’ve entered the crowd, Aurora slips away to find a quiet hall, and apparates back home.

Her shoes removed, she slips through the manor to find a hiding spot to wait. If Narcissa intends to make an appearance, she’d do it tonight, thinking she’d have no fear of being caught.

Two hours are spent in utter silence and boredom, and she’s thinking of abandoning the house and returning to the party to Lucius, when her ears prick up at the sound of soft footfalls in the entrance hall below.

So she had come, after all.

The footsteps travel up the staircase, moving quietly into the rooms around her, coming closer. She’d moved, taking up refuge behind a settee in the sitting area of her own bedroom. Oh, she’d love to catch Narcissa snooping through her things.

The door creaks open and she holds her breath, careful not to make a sound as she peeks out from her hiding place. She watches her mother peer around the room, then cross to the vanity table, poking through her jewellery box. Even in the dim light, she can see the displeasure twisting Narcissa’s face as she finds the gems Lucius had given her.

Rising slowly, she watches Narcissa poke through the wardrobe, before she speaks.

“Narcissa.”

The woman gives a short yelp of surprise and whirls around, clutching her chest, and her eyes narrow to see her standing there in the shadows.

“What are you _doing,_ child, skulking around in the dark?”

“Waiting for you to show up. We knew you’d come back.”

“Of course I would come back, I live here.” Narcissa sniffs.

“You’re no longer welcome here, and you know that. What are you looking for? Your room is upstairs.”

“This is my house, Aurora, and I will not have you speak to me in such a way. I can go anywhere I please in my own house.”

Aurora’s lips purse tightly together as she stares at her mother, who eyes her with a haughty look.

“Where is my son?” She demands lowly, and Narcissa sneers at her.

“You mean your bastard? The one you had out of wedlock?”

“No matter how he was conceived, he is still my son. Where is he?”

“I don’t know where your bastard is.”

“You do. And you might wish to tell me, before I have to resort to other ways of getting the information out of you.”

“You couldn’t if you tried. I will tell you nothing.” Narcissa replies, mockingly familiar to a previous argument of theirs. “And I know nothing. Lovely mother you’re turning out to be, Aurora. Can’t even keep track of her own child. Perhaps next time you should be more careful about opening your legs.”

“I am married, mother.”

“And your child is not your husband’s. What’s the use of hiding your affairs, if you carry physical proof of them?”

“Physical proof that someone stole. Tell me where my child is. I know you know.”

“No.”

Aurora catches a flash of movement outside the room, behind Narcissa, and she arches an eyebrow at her mother, relieved.

“You might wish to tell me, rather than father.”

“Your father knows nothing of it, Aurora.”

“Doesn’t he?”

Her gaze flickers over Narcissa’s shoulder as Lucius appears in the doorway.

“It was you.”

Narcissa looks up suddenly, finding Lucius behind her. He’d heard every word. She stares at him with wide eyes, a hint of terror flickering in them.

“You tried to stop your daughter from getting a divorce from her abusive husband. And now you’ve kidnapped her son. Why? Why would you treat your own daughter like this?”

“She is a disgrace to Purebloods.” Narcissa retorts sharply, but is unable to hide the fear of her husband’s steely anger in her gaze. “Flaunting her affair with whomever it was with, whom she had a child with, and being blatantly disrespectful, not to mention making the Notts look bad.”

“If anyone it flaunting their affairs, Narcissa, it’s _you._ Affairs are not thought much of for Purebloods and you know that. You are a horrible hypocrite for accusing your daughter of infidelity when you are acting in such a manner yourself. Pot calling the cauldron black, isn’t it, _dear?”_

For once in her life, Narcissa is at a loss for words at Lucius’s icy lecture.

“I will ask you once, Narcissa. Where is he?”

“He’s dead.” Narcissa replies after a moment, and Aurora screams. Her baby, her precious son. Dead?

Lucius gazes at Narcissa with abject loathing in his eyes, both his large hands suddenly coming up to grasp her throat and slamming her body against the wall with ease.

“Why do you care so much?” Narcissa gasps out, grasping at his shirt, his hands, in attempt to get him to let her down. “Your grandson is a bastard. For all you know, the father could be a Mudblood. Or worse, a Muggle.”

“The child is a Pureblood.”

“How can you be so sure?” Narcissa gets out, her voice getting higher and more strained as Lucius’s grip tightens. Lucius’s grey eyes flash, hardening with an anger Aurora’s never seen before.

“Because the child’s father, Narcissa, is _me.”_

Narcissa gives a pained, choking cry, but whether it’s from the revelation or the crushing grip on her throat, neither Lucius nor Aurora know. Narcissa whimpers and gasps, then all at once her eyes glaze over and flutter shut, and Lucius lets go suddenly, letting the woman drop heavily to the floor.

“Father?” Aurora asks quietly, and Lucius glances back at her.

“Not to worry. She’s simply unconscious.” Lucius mutters as he stalks past her, and Aurora sends a glance back at the blonde crumpled on the floor.

“Father…”

Lucius sighs heavily, his back to her, his fingers flexing at his sides.

“Aurora, come. We have to find him.”

“He’s dead, or did you not hear?” Aurora snaps, her voice wavering.

“I _heard,_ Aurora.. Why do you think I did _that?”_ He motions violently to Narcissa’s form.

Aurora turns, creeping over to the woman and kneeling beside her, her fingers grasping her shoulder to turn her onto her back. Narcissa moves limply under her touch, her throat blossoming with darkening bruises. Aurora leans forward to look at her face. Narcissa’s skin is ashen, and Aurora carefully opens her eyes, finding them glassy and unmoving.

Her fingertips nervously press to the underside of her jaw, searching for a pulse.

She finds none.

 Jerking her hands away, she staggers to her feet and quickly retreats from Narcissa’s still form.

“She’s dead.”

“I know.” Lucius replies softly.

“You killed her.”

“She kidnapped my son.”

“She _murdered_ your son.”

“She was lying.”

Aurora’s hollow gaze turns to him. “Why do you think she was lying?”

He smiles dryly.“She’s never been one for hiding emotions easily. I can tell when she lies. Altair is still alive.”

There’s a crack in the hallway, and Aurora’s house elf comes rushing in.

“Mistress.. Master is here, at the door.” Tippy pants, and Aurora exchanges a quick glance with Lucius. Master..? Tippy didn’t refer to Lucius as Master, but she did refer to—

“Theodore.”

There’s a moment of silence before she bolts for the staircase, Lucius close behind her. The door sits open partially, and Aurora throws it open with a bang.

Theo leaps back, his brown eyes wide and startled, but he arches an eyebrow at the two of them.

“I believe I have something that belongs to you.”

Altair is settled on his hip, the little boy seeming happy and unharmed.

Aurora gives a cry of relief as Theo passes her son to her, clutching the child to her chest tightly until he gives a squawk of protest, and Lucius quickly takes the boy before she crushes him.

“What— where did you find him?”

Theo gives her a small, knowing frown.

“In my drawing room.”

“Narcissa was there?” She asks quietly, and he shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah. She was with my mother.”

She gives a shuddering exhale, sending a nervous glance at Lucius, who purses his lips.

“Where is she?” Theo asks quietly, and Aurora looks up at him, knowing he’ll see the answer on her face. He nods then.

“Alright. I’ll make up a story for my mother, keep her from going to the Aurors. It won’t last forever, but it’ll buy you enough time to come up with a convincing lie and get rid of the body.”

She surprises them both by launching herself into his arms, embracing him tightly.

“Thank you..” She whispers, as he recovers enough to wrap his arms around her.

“Anything for my wife..” He murmurs back. “After everything that’s happened, I think it’s the least I could do.”

“Why would she do this?” Aurora looked between Lucius and Theo, puzzled. “She took my son, but left him where he was sure to be discovered?”

“I’d say she wanted to scare you.” Theo offered, and her eyebrows pinched.

“But why? Why say he was dead, when he was sure to be found?”

Lucius sighs but neither of them can answer her question, and she nods for Theo to come in as her father stalks back into the house, returning to the sitting room.

 

“How do we cover this up?” Aurora mumbles, staring at Narcissa as she clutches Altair to her hip, Theo’s hand settling on the nape of her back.

“She had multiple lovers.” Lucius says, gazing down at the woman. “We plant her in a rather badly hidden place near one of their homes. Write letters that accuse her of being a whore, make him sound envious of the others. When her body is found, the Aurors will come here, will search her belongings, and find the letters, incriminating him as having killed her out of jealousy.”

She looks up at him for a long moment.

“Brilliant. But how do you know who all of her lovers were?”

He gives her a dry smirk. “She wasn’t very discreet.”

“I can help with that.” Theo offers, and they both look to him. “She was at my manor often. I overheard much more than I wished to know.”

“Good.” Lucius muses. “Aurora, you and Theo start drawing up some letters. I will task myself with hiding the body.”


	23. Chapter 23

_Eight Months Later_  
  
  
  
“I can’t believe we actually got away with this.”  
  
  
Lucius’s grey eyes settle on her, and he smiles passively.  
  
“It’s amazing what three cunning Slytherins can get away with, my dear.”  
  
Theo had helped them extensively, assisting in planting evidence, and in convincing both his mother and the authorities of the Malfoys’ innocence. His ideas had certainly come in handy during the investigation.  
  
The inquest was now complete, Narcissa’s lover arrested, and the world was pacified in the case of the murder of Narcissa Malfoy.   
  
All was right in the world.   
  
She supposed she should feel bad that they had framed an innocent, as the man had been imprisoned. But when she looked at Lucius, she couldn’t bring herself to. He’s sitting on the windowseat with a smile, Altair in his lap, letting the little boy tug on his hair. Their son was growing so quickly. He’d taken his first steps, and had learned a few words.   
  
Her hand comes to rest softly on the rounding of her stomach. Little Pandora would join their family within a week or two.   
  
There’s footsteps in the hall, and a moment later Theo pops his head in, Maia in his arms.   
  
He’d since come to live with them at Malfoy Manor, after an explosive fight with his parents. He no longer associated with them, couldn’t stand to be around them, after how they’d handled the situation. And especially not after him discovering the extent of his mother’s involvement in Narcissa’s schemes.   
  
  
Aurora sits curled up in bed beside Lucius, as he rubs his hand softly over her stomach.   
  
“Father..”  
  
“Mm?”   
  
She’s quiet for a moment, not wanting to taint his happiness with her worries.   
  
“Do you regret any of this?”  
  
His hand pauses its movements abruptly.   
  
“No, of course not. Why do you ask?”  
  
“We’re going to hell for what we’ve done.” She says quietly, but takes his hand in both of hers. “Yet when I’m with you, I can’t bring myself to care.”  
  
“We all have to decide for ourselves how much sin we can live with.” He replies quietly, kissing her forehead.   
  
  
  
  
  
The pain is horrific. Maybe with a second child, it hurt worse? She couldn’t remember Altair’s birth hurting so badly. The Healer is bent over her, one hand flat on her stomach.   
  
“Breech.” The Healer is saying to Lucius. “It has to be turned before it can be born.”  
  
Lucius says something in response that Aurora doesn’t hear, concentrating on not breaking his fingers as she grips his hand desperately, teeth gritted to keep from screaming out.   
  
It seems like days before there’s _finally_ a squalling cry, and she could’ve sob with relief if she’d had the energy.   
  
It’s heaven to be able to lay back down, to take the pain potion the Healer gives her. She’s so tired.   
  
She glances to Lucius but he isn’t looking at her, instead having a harried conversation with the Healer, who is cleaning up the newborn as quickly as she can, looking horrified as she keeps her attention on Aurora.   
  
“She’s haemorrhaging. Send for a senior Healer, as fast as you can!”  
  
Sounds are fuzzy, like they were underwater, and her eyes slip closed. How light she feels. Where is Lucius? She has to see him, to take his hand again.   
  
The Healer places her baby against her chest, and she manages to open her eyes long enough to look down at her.   
  
She smiles faintly at the little tufts of platinum hair, bringing a hand up to smooth her fingertips over her daughter’s face.   
  
All her pain has seemed to disappear. Odd. Maybe they’d given her something, she can’t remember.  
  
Footsteps clatter back into the room and then an unfamiliar man is bending over her, and Lucius is back at her side.   
  
She smiles, reaching for him, and he grasps her hand, pressing a kiss to the back.   
  
“What’s wrong? Look, isn’t she beautiful?”  
  
She pulls at the blanket wrapped around the baby, but Lucius’s gaze stays on her face, looking almost terrified.   
  
“Father?”  
  
The healers are having a harried conversation in rough whispers, and one forces a towel between her legs, prompting her to give a wail of pain.   
  
Lucius turns, opening his mouth to berate them, but her fingers tighten on his hand and distract him from his thoughts.   
  
  
The towel comes away sopping with blood, and she stares in shock. That couldn’t be good.   
  
  
“I’m so tired.” She says, and he grasps her hand tighter.   
  
“You’ve lost a lot of blood.”  
  
“Am I going to die?” She asks softly, and his eyes squeeze shut.   
  
She finds the answer written all too plainly on his face.  
  
He’s still holding tightly to her hand, but she finds she can barely feel it anymore.   
  
“I don’t want to die.” She whispers, her eyes filling with tears. “I— Father, I’m scared.”  
  
She’s never seen her father cry before now, but he does so openly. “I know, Princess. But don’t be afraid. It’s just your next big adventure.”  
  
“No.. Death is the end.” She whispers. “I can’t— can’t you do something? You’re wizards, for Merlin’s sake! Isn’t there anything you can do?”  
  
She looks desperately to the Healers, but both of them stand grimly a few paces away, their white uniforms drenched in blood. Her blood.   
  
She sinks back as Lucius waves them from the room, trying hard to fight back the tears, but fails.   
  
“I’m so scared..”   
  
She tugs weakly on his hand and he leans down, kissing her softly as she brings her other hand up, running her fingers slowly through his hair.   
  
“I love you.” She whispers as he breaks away, and he drops his forehead to her shoulder.   
  
“I love you, Aurora.”   
  
A few tears slip down her cheeks, and she gazes vacantly at him, smiling faintly.   
  
“Please don’t leave me, Princess.” He whispers, and she exhales shakily, but when he looks up at her again, her features are still, the ghost of her last ‘I love you’ frozen on her lips.   
  
_No.._  
  
  
  
His hollow eyes gaze blankly at her still form. The pain in his chest is too much to bear, as he lifts a heavy hand to touch her face. Her skin is cold, her freckles standing out against the ashy hue, and his eyes squeeze shut. His beautiful daughter..   
  
He absently swirls the brandy in his glass with a heavy sigh, moving his hand to slide his fingers through her hair, the same shade as his.   
  
He’s going numb. This cannot happen. There’s footsteps in the hall but he can’t turn to look. He knows it’s Theodore, anyways. Theo comes into his sight carrying Pandora, and observes him with tears in his eyes, but places the baby in Lucius’s arms, then retreats to give him privacy to grieve.   
  
The blood staining his hands is dry and beginning to flake off, and the blood covering her and the sheets is nothing but a large stain now. They’d be here soon to take her. He couldn’t allow that to happen, allow them to put her away in a box and bury her deep, where he’d never see her face again.   
  
Her features are still; her grey eyes, so much like his, are blank and unseeing. He couldn’t bring himself to close them, wanting to see her as long as possible.   
  
Reaching out, he sets his now empty glass on the nightstand and takes her hand in his, leaning down to kiss her cold lips for the last time.

  
  
“You are mine. Blood of my blood, flesh of my flesh. My soulmate, the love of my life. My princess. Always…”

 


	24. Chapter 24

_Epilogue_

  
“Alright, princesses, what do you want for your bedtime story?”  
  
“Tell us about mum?”  
  
Theodore’s dark eyes appraise the two girls in faint surprise. Maia and Pandora are eight and six, respectively, and couldn’t look more different if they tried. Maia looks so much like him, all dark eyes and curls and high cheekbones. Pandora is a complete copy of Aurora. Every day, it’s like seeing Aurora again. In a strange way, this was his second chance with her.  
  
Many a time he’d looked at her and accidentally called her Aurora. The little girl would look at him funnily when his face would suddenly go blank, and would ask who he was talking to. So far, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to tell her the truth.  
  
Pandora had asked about her mother before, but he’d just smiled sadly and changed the subject. But maybe now, she deserved to know.  
  
“Go get your brother, Au— Pandora.” His eyes pinch shut for a quick moment. “And get your shoes on, both of you.”  
  
Pandora slides from the bed and disappears, coming back a moment later dragging Altair by his shirt, the boy looking very bewildered as to what was happening.  
  
When they’re all ready, he ushers them outside, taking them down across the vast lawn to a hill overlooking the river, the spot that was once Aurora’s favourite place to come and sit.  
  
Two gravestones mar the expanse of grass now.  
  
Pandora steps forward, lips moving as she silently sounds out the words written on the stones.  
  
“Aurora Hesper Nott. That’s mummy.”  
  
“That’s right.”   “That’s why you call me Aurora sometimes?” She questions, looking up at him, and he observes her sadly.  
  
“You look just like her.”  
  
Altair is examining the other grave.  
  
“Lucius Abraxas Malfoy.. I know him, I’ve seen his portrait—" He cuts off, realising what he’s said. The portraits of Aurora and Lucius are in a hall he’s forbidden the children from entering, wanting to wait until they were ready to meet them. His grey gaze stares up at Theodore, expecting punishment, but Theo just sighs.  
  
“Your grandfather.”  
  
“They died the same day?” Maia asks, reading the dates on both stones, and he nods slowly.  
  
“Your mum died giving birth to you.” His hand settles on Pandora’s shoulder. “And your grandfather died not long after her. A broken heart.” He adds quietly.  
  
A broken heart, perhaps, but his death was technically caused by a more prosaic form of poison that he’d added to his drink, not an hour after Aurora passed.  
  
Pandora plonks herself down on the grass between the graves, and sets about talking to her mother, telling her all about the game she and Maia had created that afternoon, the new dress Theo had gotten her yesterday, and what they’d had for supper.  
  
Altair is observing his grandfather’s headstone, light eyes rereading the script, as he sits next to his little sister.  
  
Maia stands at Theo’s side, reaching up to take his hand. He hasn’t told her anything, nothing about her own mother, but Maia is a perceptive child. She suspects, if nothing else. But she stays silent and lets her siblings have their moment, hanging onto his hand.  
  
The wind is blowing softly, the sun having long set, and it’s a long moment before he hears it over Pandora’s babbling; the sound of light laughter carried on the breeze.  
  
Looking over his shoulder, back towards the manor, they’re there, standing by the terrace. Aurora is hand in hand with Lucius, both of them delighted at the sight of their children.  
  
He’d have expected them to move on, both of them content to be together in death.  
  
“Stay here.” He says quietly to Maia, who smiles enigmatically, her dark eyes fixated on the couple, but she turns and joins Pandora in discussing their lives to Aurora’s grave.  
  
Aurora beams at him when they see him watching, and she holds out a hand to him, waiting as he crosses the lawn towards them.  
  
“Thank you, Theo.” She speaks, her voice more an echo on the breeze, but it’s familiar nonetheless.  
  
He nods, swallowing thickly, and glances up at Lucius. The man nods to him.  
  
“Let them find out in their own time, Theodore. They aren’t yet old enough to understand.”  
  
“Perhaps they never will.”  
  
“Perhaps,” he agrees, “but you might allow them to visit the portraits, now. Rory misses them greatly.”  
  
He nods, gaze fixed on Aurora again. She smiles sweetly, her hand coming up to touch his face. It’s a shock of cold against his skin, but he imagines he can almost feel her fingers.  
  
“I thought you two would have moved on.” He says softly, still gazing at Aurora.  
  
“I was too scared of what death would bring.” Aurora says after a moment, and she glances up at Lucius. “And he wanted to be with me. So here we are.”  
  
“And you’ve never let any of the children see you?”  
  
“No, not when they wouldn’t know who we were. Pandora, at least, is too young to not be frightened by ghosts. I don’t want to scare her.”  
  
“Rory, I think she’d be elated to meet you.” He glances at Lucius again. “Although it appears you’ve already spoken to Altair.”  
  
“Yes, the boy found his way into the portrait hall.”  
  
Aurora’s gaze shifts slightly past him, and he turns to find Maia a few paces behind him, gazing up at them.  
  
“Maia, go back—“  
  
“It’s alright, Theo.” Aurora says quietly, and Maia comes up to stand beside him.  
  
“Are you Aurora?” She asks, and Aurora smiles.   “Yes.”  
  
“You’re Altair and Pandora’s mum, then. But not mine.” She says matter-of-factly, and Aurora glances to Theo, faltering at his shock.  
  
“You haven’t—“

“No.” He interrupts her. “Not yet.”  
  
“Oh.” She’s quiet for a moment, gazing thoughtfully at Maia. “I would have thought you’d have taken her to meet her.”  
  
His eyebrows arch. “Is she still..?”  
  
“Yes, she’s with Astoria and the rest of her family.”  
  
She smiles faintly at his surprise, her gaze flickering back to Maia.  
  
“I think she’d be happy to see her again.” She adds quietly, and Theo nods after a moment.  
  
Lucius reaches for Aurora’s hand, and when she looks up at him, he presses a kiss to her forehead.  
  
“We mustn’t linger, Rory. There will be many times to see them again. Let them have this, for now.”  
  
He motions to their children, still sitting by their graves, and she nods sadly.  
  
“You’re right.”  
  
She smiles up at Theodore, but it’s a remarkably sadder smile than before.  
  
“Thank you, for everything you’ve done for them.”  
  
He nods, unable to respond. They’ve come to be as much his children as they are hers, much as he thought it wouldn’t be so. But he loves them as his own now, and that’s all that matters.  
  
He watches Aurora and Lucius walk hand in hand back towards the manor, and sighs softly. They’ve gotten their happy ending, however unorthodox.  
  
  
Now it’s time to go find his.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really overwhelmed by the amount of responses to this story! I loved writing it, and although the story is now finished, I'm not quite ready to give up on Aurora. There are a few scenes that didn't make the final story that I'll be posting as one shots over the next few months (for both Lucius and Theodore). So look for more to come!
> 
> EDIT: A friend of mine has suggested to me the idea of writing a (much shorter) story, from Theo's perspective, giving some backstory on why he treats Aurora the way he does, and detailing some of the things that go on when Aurora isn't around. Would anyone be interested in that? She also suggested a story about Altair when he's a bit older, around seventeen. That second idea I've already added to the list of one shots, but I'm curious if anyone would read some musings on our dear Mr. Nott.


	25. Chapter 25

Hi everyone! I've added this work to a series, titled _Gravem Temporum._ Theo's story is next in the series, titled  _The Dark of Ages Past._ Points if you get the reference. That series is also where I'll be posting a variety of one shots with Aurora and either Theodore or Lucius, and also where the short story concerning Altair, Maia, and Pandora will be posted. Thanks for reading! 


End file.
